A Lesser God's Opus
by freerangeegghead
Summary: In which as Rachel and Santana's family grows, they face new challenges that strengthen their love and commitment to each other. A story about love, hope,miracles, the power of faith, pushing the limits and making dreams come true. Occurs after "Learning Curve". Part IV of "Loop/Space/Learning/Opus" series. Romance,family,humor,drama,angst,friendship, awesomeness. PEZBERRY
1. Part 1: Surprises

_**Author's note: Dear readers, I know it's been a long time coming, but here is a follow-up to the Loop/Space/Learning 'verse, "A Lesser God's Opus". We shall now call it the "Loop/Space/Learning/Opus" verse or the LSLO verse.**_

_**In which, as Rachel and Santana struggle to expand their family, they are confronted with some new challenges and difficulties. Same verse as "In the Loop", "The Space Between", "The Learning Curve", "Imagine Me and You" and "True Delights". Part IV of the LSLO verse. Some parts of this story are Rated T, some parts are Rated M (an extremely tame Rated M as you all know), but just to be on the safe side, I'll be putting it as Rated M - but for those of you already familiar with my work, you already know how this works. So, read at your own risk,**__** but I do hope you still enjoy this. :-)**_

_**Disclaimer: Glee owns the original Glee characters. Any pop culture reference you may recognize is also not mine. As always, the original characters, the prose, the ideas, plots, themes, the post-modernism of it all, is all mine (and you will know it's mine because I've put in some distinctive signature stuff only my beta and I can recognize as mine. :-)).**_

* * *

_**Part 1**_

* * *

Rachel glances at her watch as she stops in front of the door of their apartment in Greenburg Hill Gardens in Brooklyn, puts down the small bag of groceries and the birthday cake she bought and rummages around in her shoulder bag for her keys. A gust of crisp spring breeze gently blows around her and she shivers, runs a hand through her long, dark wavy hair and brushes stray strands of dark hair away from her face, flips her hair away from her shoulders as she feels the cold metal of her keys jammed between her planner and her mobile phone. She fishes it out of her bag by the personalized keychain with her and Santana's picture on it. She fumbles with her keys as she inserts the key into the lock. She glances up at the lights on the windows and takes note of the fact that the rest of the household is already home.

She should have been home earlier, it is Suzie's fifteenth birthday today, they were supposed to have dinner out, but her work with kids at the Foundation and the ensuing board meeting after, had gone on longer than usual, what with the perpetual issues of funding and support that is the lifeline of any non-profit organization that they always face. She loves fighting for Arts Education, loves teaching teenagers the joys of discovering music and how it can save their lives if they let it, helping them channel all their angst and rage into music, but lately it has been a tough battle. Whilst she is making good money as an actress, she is wont to use her personal money to fund the Foundation fully, knowing full well Santana would not like or approve it, especially since they do have a family to support. She had already supported the foundation in the past, and though the Foundation is powered by volunteers, there is still the office rent that needs to be paid, utility bills and so on that needs to be budgeted for. Some of the Beatz had stayed on as volunteers, and they still sing together on occasion, but the original members have grown and graduated from high school, and only Zee, who is studying at a community college in Brooklyn, Kareem, who is studying at a nearby university, Anferny, who is currently studying at NYADA and Kenyatta have stayed on. Rachel is surprised that of them all, Zee is the most committed, majoring, strangely enough, in social work, making it more convenient, he says, that he is volunteering at MILF. Like most of her students, and her friends, Zee cannot keep a straight face every time he says the words MILF. The publicity and buzz around The Beatz had fizzled now and so does the funding. During the meeting at MILF though, there was talk of meeting with the Department of Education and New York City Board of Education to launch a pilot project of an Arts Education curriculum program specifically designed to help troubled youth in troubled schools to catch up with their counterparts. Rachel, having consulted on numerous occasions with the Board of Education, would explore integrating what she has successfully done at Taft so that it could be duplicated, not only State-wide but perhaps nation-wide, too. She is excited by the prospect.

After her meeting at MILF, she had a phone interview with one of the more popular radio programs downtown, to promote the six-episode arc she bagged and shot for the popular family sitcom "Pushing Hope", which she shot a few months ago, as well as a minor role in the brand new indie science fiction film, "Time Turner", which she shot last year when they were shooting, conveniently enough, at Silverpoint Studios, in Brooklyn. She had also completed a magazine interview and a photo shoot with the music entertainment magazine "Moss". Normally she doesn't like going on the promotion circuit, but it gives her an opportunity to promote MILF and her charity work, as her agent, Jack, and Santana have said, so she grudgingly does so, although she emphasizes to her publicist that questions of a personal nature are off-limits. Thankfully, her very affable nature and reputation with the media has made it easier for her to make such requests, since talk show hosts and other media personalities, journalists and paparazzi have made a sport of listing, posting, most notably on social networking sites, and even _banning_, the worst celebrity guests on their shows. It helps that she rarely gives interviews and is notorious for her insistence on privacy.

Sometimes she wonders how she manages her schedule, but she has to thank her personal assistant, Daisy, her publicist and her agent, Jack, for helping her keep her career going. She looks at her watch again and realizes it is later than usual. She still has to call her fathers, who have been bothering her to call them since forever, meetings and events at Suzie's school to attend to (Santana dislikes attending Suzie's school meetings, she just gets really annoyed at the kind of issues the other parents and the teachers raise, thus giving the task of attending the said meetings to Rachel, who is more patient and less prone to losing her temper, unlike Santana), and obviously spend time with Suzie and of course, Santana.

She sighs. She finds herself yawning. She suddenly feels inexplicably exhausted.

She briefly rehearses the apology she has prepared for Suzie. Since her suddenly busy schedule, juggling Broadway, shooting episodes for "Pushing Hope" and "Time Turner", auditions, keeping her Foundation moving as well as conducting and attending meetings with the MILF Board, Board of Education and Santana's promotion to junior partner and her own cases that keep her busy all hours of the day and night, Rachel knows she and her wife have been remiss in their parenting duties.

Lately they have been having difficulty keeping up with said parenting duties, especially when it came to attending parent teacher conferences, their daughter's recitals, and supervising their daughter's school work and grades. Suzie has always been a smart child and since she hit adolescence she has found and _insisted_ on, a newfound independence as a way of asserting the fact that she is no longer a child, requesting that she be not under constant supervision from her parents all the time on anything she does.

Rachel and Santana have reluctantly but eventually decided that Suzie would be given aforementioned freedom and independence, along with a bit more trust and freedom, although the granting of these privileges have also meant Rachel worries more about their daughter more than anything. Thus, they have established some rules for their daughter that include curfews, no drinking, smoking, driving (the use of Santana's car is still off-limits from Suzie) and respect for their house when the couple is not around.

Rachel is a bit wary of the kind of things today's teenager is exposed to - Rachel and Santana had been teenagers themselves, and judging by their small-town relatively harmless exploits in Lima, Ohio that involved drinking binges and prescription drugs - Rachel knows Suzie probably faces more dangers in New York City's streets.

She stops and thinks about this, suddenly feeling anxious about the thought of Suzie engaging in underage drinking, drinking and driving, smoking, drugs, engaging in unprotected sex and finds herself suddenly subtly hyperventilating. She catches herself before she goes full-on hyperventilating, reminding herself that she and Santana have raised Suzie as a responsible teenager and she will make informed, wise choices before she makes life-altering decisions. _What am I thinking? Suzie's a_ _teenager_, she thinks, she _will_ make stupid, uninformed decisions like she and Santana used to do in high school!

Lately, their daughter's transition into a full-on teenager has included some sullenness, moodiness, mystifying silences, the locking herself in her room playing arcane rock music that only seems to consist of some girl wailing above the insufferable howling of electric guitars. This kind of music usually has indecipherable lyrics and unintelligible pronunciation, making Rachel shake her head at the sad state of proper enunciation among members of the music industry. She had long ago stopped commenting on Suzie's sudden change in musical tastes and her sudden aversion to Broadway, pop music and more understandable, accessible music, as Suzie usually just smiles at her enigmatically before turning to whatever she is doing, which is usually eating something. Suzie has developed a more interesting appetite these days, what with her dance lessons, recitals, class and being part of the Martial Arts varsity team in school. She has also eschewed brighter colors in favor of darker, more subdued colors, and most days, when not in private school uniform, is going around the house in goth apparel, like she had just discovered Tina Cohen Chang-Chang's wardrobe during her McKinley High School days.

Rachel knows Suzie's baffling change in appearance happened the day Kate's parents divorced and her parents had to have joint custody of Kate a few months ago, which meant that Kate now had to divide her time between California, where her father had gone to, and New York, where her mother, Ru, had opted to stay. At first it had been difficult for Kate, who saw the disintegration of her parents' marriage happen right before her very eyes. It had been a civil but nonetheless painful divorce for the young girl, and being separated from her parents had taken its toll on her, especially the shuttling back and forth from the East Coast to the West Coast and back. Eventually, since her father could support her more, her parents had decided she would finish high school back in California, but she would be able to decide where to go for college, depending on what college she wanted to go to. The divorce had put a strain on Kate and Suzie's burgeoning relationship as well, which had been in its infancy for the longest time now, both girls encumbered by strict parental supervision and their own feelings for each other. They had first worked out a schedule where they would talk on Skype every day, talk on the phone, text, emails and of course, spend their summers together, as Kate made her parents promise she could spend her summers in New York. But as the confusion and excitement of settling in California, as well as settling into her new school, meeting new friends, taking in the new sights and sounds of SoCal has made their relationship fall by the wayside, so that the daily Skype chats, phone calls, texts and emails dwindled to once a week or so, and Suzie's sullenness and silence increased. Rachel thinks she'll get over it, but it's been months, and Suzie has not come out of her funk following what happened with Kate. She would like to think Suzie will get over this soon, but as she has declared Kate to be her first love, in the most dramatic of confessions, to Santana secretly rolling her eyes and Rachel trying hard not to smile, both reminded of how dramatic and angst-y they had been when they were that age, but it seems she has taken the physical separation with Kate really hard.

And with this, Rachel is afraid that without Kate constantly nagging Suzie and restraining her from her wildest schemes, Suzie would now have the freedom to do things she was too whipped to do in front of Kate: the aforementioned underage drinking, drinking and driving, unprotected sex, illegal drugs and the like. In fact, Suzie had started to introduce a couple of young teenaged male friends to Rachel and Santana, teenage male friends that neither Rachel and Santana are particularly fond of, and it is at these moments when both of them miss Kate, since though Suzie had said she likes girls more, the thought that she has also taken interest in boys also raises the possibility of teen sex and teen pregnancy. Thoughts of Quinn and how hard it was for her when _she_ had been pregnant with Beth, who, technically is related to Rachel, since Rachel's birth mom, Shelby Corcoran, had adopted Beth, come to her, and she briefly wonders how Beth is now. Beth would be a young adult now, Rachel thinks. She hadn't been in touch with either Beth or Shelby, although she knows Shelby is enjoying modest success in California as a singer. Thinking of Beth makes her think of Quinn again and then of Suzie, Suzie pregnant and she finds herself hyperventilating even more.

Shuddering at the thought of their daughter pregnant at a young age, she hopes Kate is coming for the summer, just so Suzie could at least have something to look forward to. She enters the apartment in a hurry, suddenly wondering what their daughter is up to, when she hears voices shouting in the kitchen.

* * *

When she enters the kitchen, following the unmistakable voices of Santana and Suzie engaged in an angry, shouting match, well, more Santana shouting really, and Suzie answering in a higher, but still respectful tone, worried that the fight will escalate into something else, she sees Santana all angry and shouting and red-faced, standing by the kitchen counter, whilst Suzie is sitting by one of the kitchen chairs, sobbing, one side of her face redder than the other, eyes blood-shot and puffy and red.

Rachel takes in the scene, as a silence descends on the kitchen when she enters it, broken only by Suzie's sobbing.

"What is going on here?" Rachel manages to ask as she goes to Suzie and puts her arm protectively around the young girl. She sets her keys, shoulder bag, bag of groceries and the box with the birthday cake in it, on the table.

Suzie leans towards her mother and buries her face on Rachel's chest, her long, olive-skinned arms snaking around Rachel's waist. Rachel awkwardly holds the girl, who is an inch or so taller than Rachel now. Rachel knows Suzie will grow a few more inches in the next few summers. Suzie's gleaming, smooth and silky blonde hair falls into a curtain around her tear-streaked face, and Rachel tenderly brushes stray strands of blonde hair away from her face, tucking them behind Suzie's ear, and then notices that Suzie now has more than one hole in said ear, in fact, it has at least four more holes, aside from the one she got when Rachel had gotten her ears pierced when she was younger. Rachel pulls back to make sure she has seen it right. Yes, Suzie has five holes in one ear. She subtly checks the other ear and sees that the other lobe has an equal number of holes. _First multiple piercings, what next, tonsures? _Rachel asks herself. She imagines Santana is not too happy with that either. Suzie looks up at Rachel now with her eyes that are a darker blue green with flecks of brown, pleading with her mother to intervene, to perhaps talk some sense to Santana and Rachel feels a surge of love for the girl. Suzie is her daughter and she loves the girl with a passion.

"Oh, great, so now I'm the bad guy in all this," Santana huffs, folding her arms before her, looking at Suzie with no sympathy in her eyes, eyes glaring at Suzie now with much anger and disapproval. Santana is still in her business suit, a subdued shade of navy blue that accentuates all the curves of her body in all the right places. Though Santana is wearing only light make-up, that equally accentuates the fullness of her lips, the curve of her cheekbones and those expressive, fiery, dark brown eyes framed by long, dark eyelashes, it barely conceals the fact that Santana seems to have grown even more incredibly beautiful, the years, the experience, the wisdom giving Santana Lopez a heady combination of sexy, hot, stunning and at the same time, even more captivating. Rachel tries to control these errant thoughts in the face of the family crisis at hand but she cannot help but still feel that attraction to her wife even after all these years.

Rachel and Santana will have been together for eight years this year, and Santana is still the most beautiful woman she has ever seen. Lately though, they haven't really been spending a lot of time together, what with Santana's work, and Rachel's work and everything else in between. In fact, they haven't had sex in months, Rachel notes, with Santana always working late at the firm, and Rachel always in some interview, rehearsal, audition, meeting, photo shoot or busy with Suzie. Looking at her beautiful wife, Rachel wonders why they haven't had sex - there was a time when they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. She wonders if they've hit that dreaded seven year itch, but then thinks to herself, they are actually going to celebrate their eighth anniversary this year, so she had thought they had actually skipped that part. She suspects it is not only the work and the fact that mostly they are always too busy and too tired to have sex or even cuddle these days that is the problem. The problem started when they started trying to have a baby, and the ensuing stress and frustration that accompanied trying to conceive. They had gone to doctors, gone to sperm banks, gone through male sperm donor files, discussed possibilities, alternatives, and Rachel had taken fertility pills and they had regularly charted her monthly period, her ovulation, arranged both their schedules so they could time the time of conception perfectly, and had, on two or three occasions, thought Rachel had conceived. But each time had been a false alarm, and the strain, the hopes being raised and being dashed again, had put an end to hopes of ever expanding their family beyond just Suzie. They had talked about adopting, but Santana had not seemed as enthusiastic about it as she did before, once she got over the false alarms, and she had, in fact, seemed to gradually lose interest, until finally, discussions about adding an extra member to their family had ceased and finally, had been all but forgotten. What Santana did, on stressful, frustrating occasions such as this, was to throw herself into her work, and that was what she did. And Rachel's response to the same stress and frustration, and to her wife seemingly clamming it all up in her, was to throw _herself_ into her career and work as well, until the not-talking part of their relationship, and then the gradual lack of physical intimacy, engendered by thwarted attempts at conceiving, becomes something that is a regular occurrence, until it is accepted, then ignored and it stretches on and Rachel feels a small worry somewhere in the back of her mind, because when they start to _not_ talk about things, that is when the trouble starts, just as it did in the past, until it explodes in their faces and they are left with the mess and they have to deal with the consequences. They should probably talk about this, she knows, especially since their fortunes, she thinks, are about to be reversed.

Except now, she does not know how best to bring up what she needs to talk about with Santana, especially now, these days, when she and Suzie seem to be locking horns a bit more than usual and Rachel finds herself being the person in the middle, the one always breaking up the fights. She isn't surprised by these fights though, because the fact of the matter is, Santana and Suzie are actually more alike than they care to admit, and not only physically, and the reason why these days Santana seems more protective of Suzie than usual is because she probably sees herself in Suzie more than anything else.

Rachel had looked forward to being home that night, to celebrate Suzie's birthday, to talk to Santana after, break important news to her, but she decides maybe this isn't the right time.

Rachel thus can do nothing but sigh and asks, "What happened?"

"Mom thinks I'm pregnant, Mom," Suzie says now between sobs and hiccups. Rachel tightens her hold on the girl and rubs the girl's back. Along with adolescence, Suzie had ditched calling Rachel 'Mee' in favor of just calling her 'Mom', especially since she thinks 'Mee' now sounds just a bit childish and is afraid that her friends would tease her about it. Suzie had eventually grown out of it. Rachel kind of misses it sometimes, and sometimes, when Suzie gets really excited, gets ahead of herself or forgets herself, she starts calling Rachel, 'Mee', making Rachel's heart skip a bit, reminding her of those simpler times when Suzie was younger and all they had to worry about where simpler things, like tooth aches, chicken pox, mumps, the pranks Suzie used to do that had the whole family being called to that hateful principal, Mrs. Sheridan's, office, and so on. Now, Suzie faces more tangible, real dangers, and Rachel already partially sympathizes with Santana's worries, and Suzie's pain and confusion.

Then what Suzie says dawns on Rachel and she looks at Santana and says, "Wait, what?"

"Mom thinks I'm pregnant, or something," Suzie mumbles now. "Which is kind of weird. I'm kind of gay, Mom, I have a girlfriend and…"

"Who moved to California …" Santana reminds her now. "And you've been hanging out with those disgusting unwashed miscreants who look like they haven't showered for a year..."

Suzie's response to that is to sob even harder, making Santana roll her eyes and tap her fingers on her arm.

"That still doesn't make me pregnant," Suzie says now, between sobs. "I mean, it would literally take a miracle for me to get pregnant, Mom."

"Then what the hell is _that_?!" Santana angrily asks now, gesturing to an object on the table that Rachel has not noticed before.

Rachel follows where Santana's hand is pointing and on the table, she sees a discarded pregnancy test kit, the blue indicating that it is positive.

"That's not mine," Suzie insists now, the whiny frustration apparent in her voice, like they've been having this conversation for the better part of the afternoon and early evening. Which they probably were, Rachel surmises.

"Then who in hell owns it?!" Santana asks, trying to keep the fury out of her voice but failing to do so. "Because that's certainly not your mother's, she can't get pregnant, and it certainly as hell isn't mine."

"Mom, I'm not…" Suzie attempts to say again.

"I don't work my ass off for this family so you can get pregnant and drop out and be some single teen mom working at some dead-end job with no future or no prospects," Santana angrily cuts her off now.

"That's mine," Rachel softly says now, as Santana and Suzie resume arguing even more loudly.

"Are you listening to me, Mom? That test kit isn't mine," Suzie says. "And besides, I _know_ how to use pills and condoms, Mom. I _aced_ Sex Ed."

Santana's expression goes darker now, and between gritted teeth, she says, tightly, "So you're going around being a freaking _slut_ now, are you?"

"I'm not having _sex_, Mom. _Geez_. Kate is in _California_. And as you so aptly put it, I don't think we'll ever get to that _ever_," Suzie says now, lower lip trembling, as she lifts her head to say this and then buries her head again on Rachel's chest. "_Mom_, will you _talk_ to her, please?" Suzie asks Rachel now, looking up at her. "She's _impossible_."

"And when were you planning to tell me about…" Santana says to Suzie now before she stops and she looks at Rachel. "Wait, what?"

"That's mine," Rachel says now, more casually, in a matter-of-fact tone, like this should be so obvious to the two by now, as she indicates the kit on the table.

Santana is quiet now, looking at Rachel.

Suzie stops sobbing and looks up at Rachel, knitting her eyebrows. She then pulls back and asks, "It's _yours?_" Suzie untangles herself from Rachel and moves to grab the kit from the table, stares at it, perplexed, before carefully setting it back on the table.

There is silence in the kitchen.

Santana is quiet for a few seconds, before she furrows her eyebrows, and narrows her eyes and says, tightly, "Is this a joke? Are you freaking kidding me, Rach? Because this isn't a joke and it's _so_ not funny."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "For a bad ass lawyer, San, you can sometimes be the dumbest smart person I know. I'm pregnant." When Santana doesn't say anything, Rachel continues, "I was supposed to tell you guys tonight, I wanted to surprise you…but I got held up at work, and traffic and…"

Santana is quiet as she regards her wife now, all thoughts of making life a living hell for Suzie tonight forgotten as she stares at Rachel, who stands by the table, looking at imaginary lint on her blouse. Suzie looks at Rachel as well, puzzled and curious, face full of wonder, perhaps marveling at this sudden turn of events but not entirely unhappy that the heat has been taken off of her.

"You're pregnant." Santana says this more as a statement rather than a question, but there is an underlying incredulity beneath the words, as if she is suspending disbelief until further notice or confirmation.

Rachel nods, brushing off still more imaginary lint from her blouse, refusing to meet Santana's gaze. This was the part that Rachel had not anticipated, and had always wondered about: how Santana would react when she finds out Rachel is actually, really pregnant. With their child. Especially since it's been months, perhaps a year now, since their last attempt, and Santana had given up hope that they could have a child together. Now, looking at Rachel, and having to re-align, re-adjust her thoughts, to the idea that not only is Rachel pregnant, but that she herself will be a mother soon, _again_, Rachel can already guess at the confusing thoughts, mixed emotions whirling through Santana's mind and heart.

"How'd you even find the time…?" Santana asks now.

"I…" Rachel hesitates, stops, looks at her from the corner of her eyes, then goes back to staring at the table, then at the test kit lying on it, then says, "I tried one more time, after…the last time…thought I'd give it another shot. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I'm sorry I went behind your back and did that, I know we're on a budget and all that, but…well, I didn't want to raise your hopes again like before in case it didn't take and I really wanted a baby with you and the doctor said it was a long shot…"

She feels Santana approach her now, taking a few steps forward as Rachel falters, then continues, "But that was like, the nth pregnancy test kit I've peed on, and it kept turning blue and I've gone to the doctor and they've said I _am_ pregnant, and please don't be mad, I've been feeling terrible and Gloria wasn't kidding about the morning sickness and I feel sick and nauseated all the time and…"

Santana doesn't let her finish though as she takes one big, final step forward and scoops Rachel into a tight hug that lifts Rachel off of the floor as she says, "You're pregnant? With our baby?"

Rachel rolls her eyes but she smiles, matching the big grin that Santana has now on her face as she looks up at Rachel, then plants a tender kiss on Rachel's lips before she sets her back down on the floor again.

"Well, it's your egg, and it's my uterus, so yeah, _our_ baby," Rachel says slightly sarcastically now, "Who else's do you think it would be?"

Santana laughs now, kissing her again. "I'm sorry, baby…with all the false alarms I've been through…I don't think I can take the stress and disappointment of yet _another_ false alarm…"

"Didn't I just say that's like the _nth_ pregnancy test kit I peed on? Just to make sure," Rachel says now, with a smile on her face. "I have never drunk so much water, nor peed so much in my life."

"Eeeww," Suzie comments now, with a smirk on her face, thoughts of past drama forgotten. "Our conversations will now be about incontinence and constipation and some other weird pregnancy stuff, won't it? _Gross_." When Rachel just looks at her with a smile, Suzie now says, "Congratulations, Mom." Rachel smiles and mouths a "thanks" to her and Suzie says, "I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking. Not like Mom just traumatized me for a pregnancy test kit that wasn't even mine."

Santana looks at her now and smiles sheepishly, "I'm sorry."

Suzie rolls her eyes. "Ugh. Scarred for life. So glad there will be another Berry Lopez sib who'll take the heat off of me. Next time, check with Mommy Rach first, Mom."

"I said I was sorry," Santana says now.

"And also, Mom, just so you know, Mommy Rach actually buys me condoms and pills, whether I use them or not," Suzie says.

Rachel blushes now as Santana looks at her. "I…" she says. "If she was going to engage in underage sex, she might as well be protected, San. I'm sorry…"

"Not like I'm using any of those, Mom. I'm _really_ not _doing_ anyone. I'm too busy and too tired for anything other than sleep," Suzie adds now. "This mistaken test kit thing means I so need something to pacify me. Like maybe a bigger allowance or something."

Santana looks at her, quirking one eyebrow. "Don't push your luck."

Suzie shrugs. "Well, thought I'd give it a shot." As Suzie watches Santana hug Rachel again, Suzie says, "Don't forget, your firstborn is still here. And may I just remind you, since I am the first born, I get to go to college first."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Your grandparents have already set up a college fund for you, I don't think we need to worry about that. Although you know the rules, you actually have to go to college first."

Suzie rolls her eyes, as well. "I _am_ going to college. But there's no way I'm going to be a doctor like Grandpa Pierce wants me to. I think all that hypocritical oath thing is just crap."

Rachel smiles. "Language, Suzie."

"Aw, Mom, I thought when I hit fifteen I could start using words like crap in your presence," Suzie says with a grin.

"Yes, but you're going to be a big sister now, so you have to set a good example for your younger brother or sister," Rachel says.

"Fine," Suzie says.

Santana grabs Rachel now and says, "Oh my god, baby, you're pregnant!"

Rachel looks at her wife now and grins. "Yes, I am. Last time I checked."

Santana grins and holds her again. "Oh my god, baby, you're _pregnant_. We're going to be moms!"

Rachel nods, smiling. "Yes. We're going to be parents."

Santana kisses her again, pulls back and tenderly says, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Rachel says.

Behind them, Suzie shifts uncomfortably before she ventures a noise, clearing her throat.

Rachel looks at her now and then suddenly, she realizes something at about the same time Santana does and they both look at each other and then back at Suzie and say, at the same time, "Oh, my god, your birthday."

Suzie rolls her eyes again and throws up her arms in the air, "Well, about time! Geez. I thought you guys were going to forget that."

Rachel turns to Suzie and hugs her and says, "Happy birthday, Suzie!"

Suzie hugs her back, leaning forward a little to rest her chin on Rachel's shoulder and says, "Thanks, Mom!"

Santana comes up and offers Suzie a hug, too and says, "Happy birthday, kiddo!"

"Thanks, Mom!" Suzie says. When she pulls back, she says, "But just so you guys know, I'd much rather prefer a car than birthday greetings."

Santana looks at her and curtly says, "No."

"Aaww, _Mom_," Suzie whines, but a half-smile is on her face.

Santana looks at her with a smirk on her face, and says again, "No way, no and never, not necessarily in that order."

Suzie rolls her eyes.

"So, where do you want to go?" Rachel asks their daughter now.

"Well, what I'd really like to do is engage in some underage drinking and maybe experiment with illegal drugs like…cough syrup and solvents…" Suzie begins but when Santana gives her a dark look, Suzie grins and throws back her head and laughs before she says, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'd actually prefer engaging in some heavy petting and perhaps get to second base with some random girl I meet at some party…" When Santana glares at her again, Suzie says, "Just kidding. Pizza's fine, Mom. And some Coca Cola. I _am_ allowed to drink coke now, right?" When both women nod their heads, Suzie grins and asks Rachel, "Great! I'm ordering! Vegetarian okay, Mom?" Then she turns to Santana and says, "Pepperoni for me and Mom." Before she heads to the phone to order at Luigi's, she turns and looks at both of them and says, "But don't think I don't know you both forgot my birthday. _Again_. Next time, I'm really going to ask for a car!"

* * *

Later, after Suzie orders the vegetarian and pepperoni pizza at Luigi's and Luigi's delivers in record time later, the family sits down to pizza, the birthday cake, coke and a bottle of the finest California wine, in the living room, as they turn the television on to a "Pushing Hope" episode they had DVR'd just for such an occasion.

"Hey, the DVR's memory is kind of full, can I erase the 'True Delights' episodes we saved from before?" Suzie asks now, looking at the machine. "I don't want to hurt the DVR's feelings or anything, Mom, but those eps need to go. I mean that show's been cancelled since forever…"

"Aaaw, I like that show," Santana says, "When I'm feeling down, I just turn the television on and fast forward to the parts with Kurt dressed as a girl in it. It's freaking hilarious!"

"Honey," Rachel says, shaking her head. Though there had been a brief moment in the past when Kurt had been crazy enough to dress as a woman to get a job at a once popular television show, having his stint as a woman immortalized for everyone to see, reminding him of that dark period in his life, is not something that Kurt wants to be reminded of, so they try not to bring it up. These days, Kurt is busy with a job in design as an apprentice at Marc Jacobs. He still does a bit of acting on the side as well, but he seems to have found a calling in fashion design. He is still with Dave Karofsky, but whether their relationship will turn into something more serious is anyone's guess.

Santana rolls her eyes now, already at work picking at the tomatoes on Rachel's pizza. "Okay, okay, fine."

Suddenly, to Santana's surprise, Rachel pushes the box of vegetarian pizza aside, and starts to get a slice of the pepperoni pizza and puts it in her mouth.

"Baby, what are you doing?" Santana asks now, knitting her eyebrows as she does so, looking at Rachel chewing the pizza with much relish and gusto.

"Mmm, this is so delicious," Rachel says, oblivious to Santana just staring at her.

"Babe, in case you forgot, you're supposed to be vegetarian…or something," Santana says.

Rachel says. "Oh, this is so _g_oo_d_," Rachel says now, "Honey, can you get the Tabasco sauce in the kitchen, please?"

Santana stares at her for a second before she gets up and heads to the kitchen, door swinging after her. A few seconds after, she comes back to the living room, setting the bottle of Tabasco sauce down on the living room table.

"What happened to the rest of the pizza?" Santana asks now, when she is about to get a slice and finds that only three slices of pepperoni are left. She turns to Rachel and finds Rachel stuffing herself with the next one. Santana makes a face. "Eeeww, babe, if you turn into a house after all this, I'll have to seriously re-think this 'in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer', part of our wedding vows."

Suzie snickers, as she takes a bite of her pizza and Rachel pouts, sticking her lower lip out at Santana.

"Just kidding, baby," Santana says now with a smile as she watches Rachel grab the Tabasco sauce and pour a generous helping of the sauce on the slice of pepperoni pizza she has in her hands.

Santana and Suzie watch, fascinated, at Rachel putting so much sauce on the pizza and then putting the slice of pizza in her mouth, both making a face and shaking their heads as she does so. A little while later, Rachel almost chokes and then makes that familiar, German Gollum "Gah!" sound only reserved for when she tries to drink anything stronger than wine coolers and both Santana and Suzie scramble to give Rachel a glass of water. Rachel accepts the glass of water and drinks it in one swallow.

"Wow, they weren't kidding about this having all sorts of weird cravings part of being pregnant," Suzie whispers now as they both watch Rachel, fascinated. Santana only nods. "It's like…watching 'National Geographic' or something, when they show the eating habits of lions and hyenas and jackals in the Kalahari. Or alternately the mating habits of Aleutian beach whales or something…"

Santana gives Suzie a warning glare and the girl whispers, "Sorry, Mom". Before they even begin to watch the television show, Rachel is almost done with the pepperoni pizza and both Santana and Suzie end up eating the vegetarian pizza, which they both don't like at all and Santana ends up ordering more pizza and an order of Chinese take-out of noodles, tofu and dumplings from the small Chinese take-out restaurant a few blocks from Luigi's. Rachel finishes the tofu and dumplings in record time.

Suzie tinkers with the equipment and then the simple, familiar opening credits of "Pushing Hope", bluegrass music with simple, pencil line, black and white cartoon sketches of the characters appear, a quirky group of funny characters that have slowly, steadily built a small, loyal, rabid fanbase dedicated to the simple story of an extended family in America's heartland. It is sweet and funny and not at all the kind of snarky, cynical, pessimistic kind of television show that seems to saturate scripted television these days and Rachel is very happy, proud and honored to have even been considered to play the role of the funny, unhinged college professor trying to fit in with the young students. As the family watches Rachel's character, named Bellatrice McBeal, try to rap to the tune of Beastie Boys' "You Gotta Fight For Your Right (To Party)", in an effort to impress her crowd of younger students, Santana and Suzie begin to snicker, both afraid to offend the most famous member in their family, but Rachel plays the character in such an over-the-top way that both are convinced Rachel had played the character for laughs, and so by the end of Rachel rapping, Santana and Suzie are both laughing their ass off, having tears in their eyes as Rachel finishes rapping the song triumphantly.

"Aaww, baby, that's like the most brilliant performance you've ever done! And that includes that performance you did in London when you were there! And all the solos you had in high school! And that award-winning Barbra Streisand role you had on Broadway!" Santana says now, in between guffaws. There just seems to be something infinitely hilarious about NYADA-trained, Broadway and West End star Rachel Berry rapping to the Beastie Boys on a loveable television show about, well, hillbillies in the Midwest that makes Santana and Suzie laugh long after the end credits roll around and the next episode starts to play.

Rachel grins at both of them, with much pride and satisfaction.

"That's like the most awful rapping I have ever heard…!" Santana says now. "But it's so bad it's good!"

"Agreed!" Suzie says now, laughing, as the two move to hug Rachel. "My Mom is awesome!" she says now as she continues to laugh.

When Suzie leans over to grab a glass of coke, Santana hands her a glass of wine instead.

"Mom, I thought I wasn't allowed to drink even wine till I was twenty one at least," Suzie says now, eyeing the glass of wine suspiciously.

"San," Rachel says to her now, uncertainly.

Santana shrugs. "You were the one who said if she was going to do all that illegal underage stuff, that she might as well do it in our home, correct?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Yes, but not sex, Suzie, eeww, please don't do that in the house," she tells Suzie now, then she turns to Santana and says, "She's barely sixteen, honey…I don't think…"

Santana shrugs again. "It's her birthday, maybe just this once? And also, I'm guessing we're instituting that rule where if you can't drink wine, nobody can, right?"

Rachel grins at her. "Yes, if I can't drink wine then you can't drink that stuff, too!"

"Aaaw, no fair!" Santana says, smiling. When Rachel just glares at her, Santana says, "Alright, alright, but can I just have one celebratory drink tonight? I'm swearing off wine for nine months, so I might as well say goodbye to that for tonight."

Rachel considers this for a minute, before she says, "Oh, what the hell!"

Santana and Suzie smile and Suzie lets out a squeal before the girl starts chugging the wine.

Santana sits back, puts her arm around Rachel, leans over, kisses her on the cheek before she whispers, "Don't worry. With luck, she'll have a hangover by tomorrow and she'll swear off wine and other alcoholic beverages for at least a couple more years."

Rachel grins at her and shakes her head.

They spend the rest of the time eating and catching up on episodes from other shows such as "The Soprano Diaries", "HeartLand", "Modern Community", "Alpha Plain of Interest", "The Real True Delights: Asylum", "The Craft: The College Years" and "Lost Boys: Evolution", Rachel and Santana recognizing Alanna Vergara, Helen Cooper and Alice Troy in a couple of the shows, all three now up-and-coming television stars. After, Rachel presents Suzie with a beautiful silver necklace of ballerina shoes and Santana presents her with silver earrings, with a sarcastic comment thus, "I'd have bought you more had I known you were going to add more hideous holes in your ears."

After a few more drinks, the family decides to call it a night and retreat to the comfort of their rooms.

* * *

Santana lies down on her side of the bed, later that night, all showered and fresh and dressed in a tank top and shorts, blanket all the way up to her waist, arms behind her head, left ankle on right ankle, legs stretched out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, as she is wont to do, while she is waiting for Rachel to finish up or waiting for sleep to come.

The truth of the matter is, Santana really didn't know how to react to Rachel's pregnancy. On the one hand, she is very, very, happy, unbelievably happy, _beyond_ happy that her wife is pregnant. The thought that she would have a child with the woman she loves, that they would be parents, that they would be raising a child together, fills her with much excitement and joy and _life_, knowing that this is yet another exciting, and never boring adventure that is her life with Rachel Berry. But on the other hand, she has a whole other range of emotions going through her as well, fighting for supremacy in the pit of her stomach. At first, once it had been clear that the possibility of her wife getting pregnant had been slim to none, she hadn't really hoped it would actually happen. She had indulged her wife because it made her wife happy and if it made her happy then that was all that mattered. But Rachel had such an excitement, an energy, an almost childish joy around her, an enthusiasm that by its very extent had Santana feeling all excited herself. There was such excitement and positivity and optimism in Rachel, something Santana had taken for granted before that she now appreciates, that Santana thought Rachel could get pregnant just from sheer positivity and optimism alone. And it was this same positivity and optimism that had helped buoy the couple through the initial disappointment of finding out their first try had failed, and the second try and the third…Until Santana had eventually lost and given up hope and, as she is wont to do, she throws herself in her work, trying to deal with the disappointment and frustration as best as she could. The physical intimacy between them had fallen by the wayside as of late, because they are both too busy and too tired for anything else, but also, Santana thinks, because the strain of failing at conceiving has taken its toll on the couple.

But then she had gradually gotten used to the idea of them just having Suzie around, and actually realized the cons outweighed the pros, because aside from the added financial challenge of an extra person in the household, there were other risks and challenges that came with having her wife pregnant. The fact that Rachel is over thirty now means the health risks on her and their unborn child would dramatically increase as well, and Rachel would probably need more medical attention and just more support than most younger pregnant women. Santana didn't mind this in the least, but it meant having to consider such things as Rachel's career, her own career, and how they can accommodate a baby in their lives, now that both are at the peak of their careers, with no hint of slowing down. This means that they would have to move their schedules around a bit so that the child is with either parent at all times. And knowing how obsessive Rachel is, Santana knows there will be other major adjustments in their lives, from ensuring that the house is safe for the baby, to diets, change in menus, changes in sleeping schedules, even perhaps thinking about more baby-friendly transportation. So she had been kind of glad that Rachel could not get pregnant. It just seemed like too much adjustment to do at this point in their lives.

The health risks that both her wife and their unborn child might be exposed to, makes Santana think again about the wisdom of having her wife pregnant as well. Santana remembers the time when there were complications when Suzie was born and it had been a difficult, sleepless twenty four hours for Santana, who had been worried for both Brittany and Suzie's life. It had been a nerve-wracking time for Santana, and at the time, she had made the decision that if she had to choose between Brittany and Suzie, she would choose Brittany, but now the circumstances have changed. She has a feeling of course, that if there were complications like this in Rachel's pregnancy, Rachel being Rachel, and Rachel being like Brittany, with all the maternal instinct in full swing, will choose to carry the child to term, and give birth, at the risk of her own health. Santana already knows with devastating clarity that there is no way she would want to risk losing Rachel for a baby. She closes her eyes, realizing how morbid she is being, thinking that whatever she is thinking is just too much. Maybe things will be alright. Maybe it will be all fine.

Except the other thing that is giving her mixed feelings is the fact that with a baby on the way, it also means that she will have to, of course, work twice as hard to provide for the family. It isn't like they are struggling, Rachel of course makes good money as an actress, even though there is the Foundation to consider, and they've been able to live comfortably considering everything. But during the early years, especially with Brittany, she and Brittany had struggled, especially when Suzie came along, and even more so when Brittany had fallen ill, and Santana had kept working, afraid that if she stopped, or relaxed, her wife and child would go hungry. These were ridiculous thoughts, she knew, Brittany had saved money, and Santana may not be the richest of lawyers, shunning corporate law for human rights and environmental law, but she provided for her family, a fact that she took pride in and they were comfortable and that was enough. But even then, there were times, especially during Brittany's illness, when it seemed like things weren't enough, and even her family and Brittany's family had chipped in, those early years. Thankfully, Suzie's college is taken cared of, something she is thankful for and though Suzie growing up means her needs would evolve as well, it was okay.

And Suzie is a teenager now, and with this comes a newfound freedom from the challenges of raising a child, not having to juggle picking up the girl from school, or preparing her meals, or giving her baths, or the numerous other things associated with raising a child.

She and Brittany had been young when Suzie was conceived. There had been no time to breathe, to relax, to second-guess themselves. After graduation, Brittany had skipped college, gone to California, worked a couple of years as a dancer, touring as a back-up dancer for a famous singer, auditioning and landing jobs in dance movies before she sought Santana in Louisville and announced, firmly and in a voice that left no room for argument, that she wanted to get married and she wanted a child and a family and she wanted it all with Santana. At the time, they had been struggling with their relationship, but it had been the decisive factor that singularly forced Santana Lopez to grow up and give up her own, now seemingly foolish dreams of making it big in New York, to start that family with Brittany S. Pierce. She thus finished college and law school in Louisville, studied and passed the bar exams, became a certified lawyer and immediately set to work providing for her family. Law was something that she had not been into at first, but she had grown to like it and the joys and frustrations and fulfillment it brings her. These days, she is working so much she barely has time for her family. She still has that LGBT immigration that's taking forever in the courts, and a new one involving a multi-national corporation and environmental violations that could probably be taken to court once they are done with their own research.

But sometimes, she wonders about what could have been had she dropped out and followed her dreams in New York.

She had known, of course, when she had said yes to Brittany, that she was turning her back on her dreams, and once she did that, she knew there was no looking back. And she had no regrets about it. When she thinks about how she almost gave up her scholarship and dropped out of college, to follow her own dreams, she almost cringes, because had she done so, she wouldn't have gotten what she had now, a family with Brittany, Suzie, and now Rachel and their unborn child. This, having a family, _everything_, was, _is,_ all worth it. She smiles remembering Brittany, remembering that vague, dull ache, a fondness for her late wife, somewhere in her heart. Brittany, Brittany will always have a special place in her heart and she knows if she had another chance she would do it all over again, give up everything, for her family. And of course Suzie…Suzie all grown up and beautiful and talented and so freaking _smart_, well, Brittany would be so proud at how much their child had grown, how awesome she is, so like Brittany and Santana, but so uniquely herself as well. And that was why when she had mistakenly thought that Suzie was pregnant, she had lost it. Santana Lopez did _not_ just give up all her own dreams just so her own daughter could get pregnant and give up on _her_ own dreams…

Now, Santana could finally begin to relax, can find it easier to breathe, like she can finally stop and take the time to smell the roses.

Santana sighs.

She hears the toilet flush and her thoughts come back to the present. And now, Rachel is pregnant. Just when Santana thinks she can go back to at least thinking about herself and her life again, of thinking of those dreams deferred so long ago for her family, for Brittany, for Suzie, for Rachel, Santana will again be a parent, and will go through yet another round of parenthood and sleepless nights and the accompanying fears and anxiety and stress and everything else that comes with it. Santana feels a vague, suffocating, stuffy feeling, mixed with anxiety, fear, doubt, like she cannot breathe, like she wants to scream, but she cannot. And she remembers Rachel hadn't even told her that she had gone back to the doctor to have herself inseminated without Santana's knowledge and that makes it doubly stressful for her, knowing Rachel had gone behind her back to do this. She doesn't even know what to feel about that. And of course, she doesn't even know if she can duplicate the success of parenting that she did with Suzie. What if she cannot be as good a parent as she had been before?

What if…What if…_What if…_

Santana takes a deep breath, and then takes another, realizing the thoughts whirling through her mind is making her panic, making the anxiety snake its way up from her gut to her chest. Sometimes, Santana feels like she has no control over anything in her life. Not when she was with Brittany, and not now that she is with Rachel. Sometimes she feels like a rag doll being swept up in a whirlpool of events that she absolutely has no control over whatsoever. She takes a few more deep breaths, realizing she is full-on panicking.

When she hears the bathroom doorknob turn, she pushes all of it down, trying to calm herself in the face of all these thoughts.

Santana already knows when Rachel comes out of the bathroom, looking a bit apprehensive and afraid, and their eyes meet across the room, that she would never voice these thoughts and feelings to Rachel. When Rachel comes to her, uncertain and hesitant, climbing onto to the bed and on to her and straddling her lap, and softly whispers, "Are you mad?" Santana forgets whatever doubts she has prior to this moment. Rachel looks vulnerable at that moment, so vulnerable and unconventionally _beautiful_, as she waits for Santana's reply, biting her lower lip as she does, needing Santana's approval, support, already knowing full well and sensing that Santana is as confused as she is about all this, already fully aware of how Santana's mind works. Santana's right hand comes up to hold Rachel by the waist, the other hand snaking into Rachel's pajama top as Rachel leans over her and cups Santana's face and Santana shakes her head, whispers huskily, "No." Rachel searches Santana's face, chocolate brown eyes looking for the assurance in Santana's dark eyes and Santana resists the urge to look away. After a few moments, Rachel seems to have decided to accept Santana's answer at face value, so she smiles and kisses her softly, tenderly, whispering "I love you" to her. Santana kisses her back, incredibly aware of Rachel, of her presence filling up Santana's senses so completely, so fully, her love for her coursing through her, giving her a warm, pleasant feeling within her. Santana pulls back from the kiss and slowly pulls up Rachel's top up and over Rachel's abdomen, tan fingers tracing the skin over Rachel's stomach. There is no indication there yet that Rachel is pregnant. Rachel sits back, watches as Santana marvels at the small, throbbing life, the _miracle_, growing inside Rachel. Rachel puts her hands over Santana's hands, her warmth suffusing Santana's being as she leans forward again to kiss Santana, right hand coming up to hold Santana's face. Rachel's hands then go down to Santana's tank top, pulls Santana's shirt up and over her head, tossing the top behind her, as she looks at Santana and grins at her again. Santana grins back. Rachel's fingers begin to trace lines on Santana's flat stomach, up to the skin on her chest, fingers curving on the swell of Santana's breasts, as Rachel leans in for a deeper, longer kiss. As Santana slowly unbuttons and removes Rachel's top, kissing and licking a trail from Rachel's neck and down to her breasts, kissing and licking them before enclosing one, then the other, in her mouth, before she holds Rachel again by the waist and flips them over so Rachel lies flat on her back and Santana is on top of her and between her legs, moving slowly and gently between her as Rachel moans and writhes and gasps beneath her, Santana already knows she would never, ever hurt her pregnant wife with these thoughts, these _doubts_. Never. She loves her wife and she would never hurt her. She loves her too much for that…

* * *

_**Author's end notes:**_

_**That's it for this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Your kind reviews will be much appreciated.**_

_**I wasn't sure about posting this, but that really bad idea of watching episode 13 of Glee's Season 4 (I swear I didn't watch the whole ep, just the Santana ones), as well as reading its reviews and recaps gave me such conflicted, confused feels (meaning…I liked it? Maybe? I don't know! haha! I want some meaningful storylines, darn it! Not a mash-up of all the fan fic stories Glee's writers seem to be reading!) that I had to think twice about posting this, but the beta had convinced me and encouraged me to post this, plus I just saw "Pitch Perfect" and that gave me such aca-awesome feels (yes, I went there!) I decided I'd post this now. So thanks to my beta, DragonsWillFly, for the encouragement and as always, for going over the many drafts of this chapter!**_

_**Author's ramble alert (you may skip this if you want) -**_

_**So, this story actually began long before "The Learning Curve" ended, meaning I'd already started to think about this, make the initial outlines and plot the story, but I had to work out some kinks, hence the writing of "True Delights". I already know how this ends in my head, but as to how many chapters it will take, I am not sure about that, perhaps 10 or so, depending on whether the outline I have expands as well. The reason "The Learning Curve" had expanded to 30 chapters was because I had meant to follow one complete school year, as well as the complete competition cycle at Brooklyn's Taft High. Once that was done (school year, grand finals), and Rachel had achieved character growth, I knew the story had ended. It would be the same with this story. This story will perhaps concentrate on Rachel and Santana's family more, so any comparison with "The Learning Curve" might not be a good idea, as this is different from "The Learning Curve", and it will address different issues, so! :) The title already gives you a clue, and as always, it's in response to some issues Glee has that my beta and I like to rant and rave about. Because I like writing fan fic that has a point, okay? haha! ;) I would also like to try multiple (or at least dual) POVs, just to make it different from the others, as this will probably be more family/Pezberry-centric than the others. I hope you like though, as I've already had the next chapters birthing word babies in my head. :)**_

_**Also, this story is in response to all the amazing reviews, favorites, PMs and incredible insights to the story "The Learning Curve", and the stories that came before and after it. I know a few of you have requested for updates, and I'd thought about doing one-shot updates, but I've decided a multi-shot story would be better, since as I mentioned, because I've figured out the kinks now. As I mentioned, for those familiar with my work, well, you know the drill. ;) So this is that.**_

_**This is especially for parker88, kutee, melovepezberry, kickangel, pictureofsuccess, soflacomet, carolinesc, aviran and the many other readers who've stuck with me since "In the Loop". I can't list all of you here, but I hope you like this.**_

_**Anyway, I hope this was worth the wait and I hope you enjoy!**_

_**Again, many thanks to everyone and hope to hear from you all. :)**_

_**PS Also, seriously, everyone just needs to watch "Pitch Perfect" like, right now. Or yesterday. :)**_


	2. Pt 1: Fever Dreams and Baby Madness

_**Author's note: Dear readers! Chapter 2 is here! Please refer to the rating above and the story description for an idea about this chapter's tone. Okay, you've been warned! Hope you enjoy! Happy reading. :-)**_

* * *

The rays of the mid-morning sun shines in on Santana and Rachel's room as both women sleep cuddling each other. Rachel's head lies on Santana's chest as Santana's other arm holds her. They are both naked, the blanket covering them all the way to their chests. It is Santana who wakes up first, woken up by a mobile phone ringing. Santana squints in the light and puts out a hand, grabbing the phone and realizing from the ring tone that it is Rachel's, some insufferable Broadway show tune that Santana has already learned to tolerate and even kind of secretly like. Rachel stirs and groans beside her, recognizing the ring tone but refusing to answer it. Rachel half-mumbles, half-indicates with an annoyed wave of the hand that she wants Santana to answer it. Santana's eyes are barely open when she presses the answer button on the phone and groggily mumbles a slightly annoyed "Hello?" in it. Their friends already know better than calling them at this unholy hour.

Her eyes fly open as she recognizes the voice on the other hand. "Uh, morning, Mr. Berry."

From the series of awkward, slightly embarrassed "Uhs" and "Ums" on the other line, she knows it's Hiram Berry, the one she actually secretly likes a bit more of the two Berry fathers, as he seems a bit less protective of their only daughter. This would be strange, considering Rachel's other father, LeRoy, would have more in common with Santana, being bi-racial and all, but she finds Hiram more interesting and unintentionally funny, revealing once to her how he'd tried to fake an epileptic seizure on the day of Rachel's wedding to Finn, making him her favorite Berry father ever. Plus on the rare occasions that her wife can drag her to a dinner with the in-laws, watching both Hiram and Rachel together, makes Santana realize where Rachel gets her mannerisms and habits from. He can also _not_ drive, which, for some strange reason, makes him more endearing to Santana. Not that LeRoy is a bad in-law, Santana just feels comfortable with Hiram. In the eight years that she and her wife have been together, Hiram has shown more indication of slowly accepting her relationship with their daughter, loosening up more in Santana's presence, engaging her in mundane conversations, showing interest in her and Suzie's life. Maybe it is just LeRoy's personality, that's why he hasn't shown as much interest in their life as Hiram has. Not that Santana minds. Brittany's parents had taken awhile to warm up to her as well, especially since their relationship hadn't started out as a proper relationship thanks to her "sex is not dating" rule and their on-again, off-again relationship, especially during that time when she had gone to Louisville. In the Berrys' case, once it was clear that Santana intended to be with Rachel for the rest of their lives and once she actually married Rachel, the discomfort, aloofness and awkwardness had eased up a bit, so that Santana can now carry on a more comfortable discussion with either Berry, especially Hiram, with ease.

Hiram chuckles. "Santana," he says, making a tsk-tsk sound as he does so. "We seriously need to have that talk where you should stop addressing me like I'm your commander or something."

Santana laughs, adjusting herself when Rachel shifts and holds her closer. "Sorry. Old habit," she says.

"I'm seriously close to being, uh, offended that you still call me, uh, Mr. Berry after all these years," Hiram says.

_Especially since I've kind of been doing your daughter for eight years now_, Santana naughtily thinks, smirking at the thought.

Out loud, Santana says, "Um, your daughter refuses to wake up so you're stuck with talking to me, I guess."

"Actually, uh, that's fine. I wouldn't mind talking to you. I'd like to ask you something," Hiram says, saving Santana the trouble of awkwardly asking him why he is calling this early.

When Santana glances at the bedside clock, and it blinks nine thirty AM on a Saturday, Santana winces. Thank god it's a Saturday. She really doesn't want to have to sneak into the office and come up with an excuse that is better than, 'I've been screwing my wife the whole night so I woke up late' excuse.

"What's that?" Santana asks now.

"It has come to our attention that uh, our daughter, is, uh, pregnant?" Hiram asks, uncertainly.

"Uh…sorry…just a sec…" Santana hesitates, catching herself unconsciously mirroring Hiram's verbal mannerisms. She debates the wisdom of being the one to tell the in-laws that their daughter is pregnant, but rationalizes that since Rachel had asked her to answer her phone for her, then that meant maybe she could also break the news to them as well. Besides, the Berrys, especially Hiram, are already slowly, _ever_ slowly, accepting her as part of Rachel's life as well. But just to check, she buries the mobile phone on her chest, making sure the mouthpiece is covered, leans over and quickly asks Rachel, "Quick! Your dad wants to know if you're pregnant, what do I say?"

"Wha-?" Rachel mumbles, sleepily.

"Your dad's calling and wants to know if you're pregnant. What do I say?" Santana says again.

Rachel turns slightly and impatiently mumbles, "Honey, I _am_ pregnant. You don't need to ask me whether you should tell him that or not. It's not like it's a secret or anything." She then sleepily buries herself in Santana's armpit and mumbles, "Hmmm, you smell so good. Don't ever shower ever again, okay?"

Santana grimaces. "Gross." She then lifts the phone to her ear and says, "Uh, sorry about that. What was that?"

"Uh, I heard Rachel's pregnant?" Hiram asks now, a little bit more uncertainly. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Lopez called me with the exciting news and I had to hear for myself and she heard it from your daughter Suzie and why are we always the last to know?"

Santana blinks the grogginess away and briefly goes through the memories in her mind to see why Hiram would say they are the last to know about everything. The wedding, yes. The first and the second wedding. Their _relationship_. They had agreed not to tell anyone about their relationship the first time they started dating, including their family and friends. Santana wonders if Rachel had waited until the last minute before telling her fathers about them when they started dating. Rachel doesn't really talk openly about her parents in regards to how they view her and Santana's relationship with Santana, which Santana thinks might be a good thing, and everything else she senses about the Berrys' attitude towards her, their initial disapproval of their relationship and of Rachel's choice of lifetime partner, Santana had sensed that all on her own. But then she stops and realizes her mother had called the Berrys. _Since when are the Lopezes and Berrys friends?_ She wonders.

"Um, we meant to break the news to everyone," Santana carefully says now, "I kind of just found out last night myself, Mr…_sir_…"

"Oh," Hiram says now, not knowing what to say next. "Well, uh, okay."

There is a long, excruciating silence in which neither party speaks, before Hiram speaks up and says, "Well, I'm just calling to say, congratulations to both of you and we hope to see you both sometime when LeRoy and I are in New York?"

Santana nods. "Sure. Rachel would love that."

"Okay. Please tell your wife to call her _parents_, as soon as she can, okay? She hasn't been calling us and it's been ages…" Hiram says.

Santana hears a vague whine in Hiram's voice when he mentions this last part and she nods. "Alright. Will do. Take care now."

After they say their goodbyes, Santana tosses Rachel's mobile phone on the bedside table and goes back to hugging her wife, who has turned on her left side. Santana slowly rubs Rachel's stomach, her left hand brushing away the hair from Rachel's neck, starts to kiss her neck, her naked shoulder, her arm, even as her other hand moves up to Rachel's breast, following the shape of her breast and squeezing them gently. Rachel moans and her body pushes back at Santana's body, her hand coming up to hold Santana's hand and kisses it before she turns her head and kisses Santana's lips. Santana lifts her head to meet her wife's lips in a kiss. Rachel shifts and tugs on Santana at the same time so Santana moves to cover Rachel's body with her own and they start kissing each other lazily.

Santana feels her body warm to Rachel's naked skin and she pulls back and whispers, "Good morning."

Rachel smiles lazily at her, hooded, sleepy eyes looking at her, and says, "Good morning."

Santana mumbles, in between kisses, "Your dad wants you to call him back."

Rachel nods. Santana kisses her even more before she starts to kiss her way down Rachel's body, all the way to Rachel's stomach, where she stops, kisses Rachel's stomach and rests her ear on Rachel's stomach. Rachel's hands come up to rest on Santana's head and they stay in this position, in perfect peace and quiet for what seems like forever, before Rachel says, with a smile, "Honey, technically, the baby's too small for you to feel it moving around, in case that's what you're doing."

Santana looks up in the middle of Rachel saying all this and she smiles back. "I know. But I sometimes still can't get over the fact that you're pregnant. With our baby."

Rachel grins. "Yes. Now, honey, I love you, but can you come up here and start kissing me again? You can't get me all worked up like this and suddenly stop."

Santana smiles. "Okay."

* * *

Later, Santana is lying alone on the bed as she hears the water in the sink in their bathroom run. Rachel is having one of her bouts of morning sickness, leaving Santana alone in bed. She decides to get up, grabbing the edge of the blanket and wrapping it around her and going to the bathroom, she lightly taps on the door and asks, "Baby, you okay in there?"

"I'm fine, honey. Just the…morning sickness…Sorry."

"Okay," Santana says, not knowing what else to say or do.

She goes back to the bed and lies down, wrapping the blanket all around herself. It is at this moment that her phone chooses to ring and she picks it up and sees that it is Sam.

She answers on the second ring.

"Hey, dork, what's up?" she greets her friend with a smirk.

"Hey, Santana! Morning! I know you hate being called in the morning, but heard from Suzie that Rachel is pregnant? So the others heard about it as well and we're all so totally Skype-ing in thirty minutes, okay?" Sam says quickly, leaving no room for Santana to interrupt.

"Huh? Wait, what?" Santana asks.

"Skype. Thirty minutes. Be there."

Santana makes a face. "Ugh. Make that forty five. Or maybe an hour. Rachel's still in the bathroom. God knows how long that's going to be."

"Oh, god, please tell me you're in the bathroom too and you're both naked and…"

"No, eeeww. Gross. Sam. She's throwing up in the bathroom. Morning sickness."

"Oh, eeww. Won't be able to get that image out of my head anytime soon," Sam says. "Why'd you have to ruin my fun, Santana?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "'Cause you're a moron?"

Sam laughs. "Fair enough. See you later!"

As soon as she hangs the phone up, it rings again, and this time it is Dave Karofsky.

"Hey, Dave," Santana says now. "Let me guess, called to congratulate us, did you?"

Dave chuckles. "Good morning to you, too. And yes, we did. Suzie told us."

"Ugh, doesn't Suzie have _any_ friends of her own?" Santana asks.

"She does," Dave says, "But you don't like any of them, except for Kate, so."

Santana laughs. "Okay."

"Kurt is a bit annoyed Rachel didn't tell her herself, so we're on our way now to you so Kurt can tell her this himself."

"Of course he is," Santana says, sarcastically. She hears the bathroom doorknob turn and the door swing open and Rachel steps out, in a bathrobe, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Don't worry, bringing you Starbucks coffee and some Krispy Kreme, is that okay?" Dave says.

"Okay."

"Who's that?" Rachel asks now, as she comes up to her wife and sits down on Santana's lap.

Santana says, "Karofsky. He and Kurt are on their way here. With some coffee and Krispy Kreme."

Rachel grins. "Really? Can they bring me some pristinely glazed donuts?"

Santana looks at her. "What?"

"I suddenly have a craving for pristinely glazed donuts."

Santana stares at her briefly before she says, "Uh, Dave, my wife wants some pristinely glazed donuts, so if you can find one of those, that would do me a solid."

Dave laughs. "Pristine glazed donuts?" he asks, puzzled.

Rachel leans over, breath warm on Santana's cheek as she says into the phone, "Yes, _pristinely_ glazed donuts. It has to be perfect or I won't eat it."

"Please don't ask me, I think it's one of my wife's insane cravings," Santana says, putting an arm around Rachel as she does so, as Rachel hits her playfully on the arm. "Ow!"

Rachel giggles and moves to kiss Santana on the cheek and playfully starts to kiss her behind her ears, and her neck, her hand snaking to Santana's stomach before it starts to travel down south. Santana grins at Rachel as her hand comes up to silently kiss Rachel and her hand comes up to hold Rachel by the small of her back.

Dave, unaware of what is happening on the other line, chuckles. "Okay. I'll see what I can do. Oh, and by the way, congratulations!"

Santana laughs, more from Rachel kissing her behind the ear than anything. "Thanks!"

As soon as she gets off the phone with Dave, Santana drops it on the bed and lunges for Rachel, holding her then shifting so she can drop Rachel on the bed, and she drops between Rachel's legs and she pins Rachel's hands above her head and starts to shower Rachel with kisses. Rachel starts to squeal and giggle as Santana does so, before Santana stops and gazes at Rachel lovingly, whispers "I love you" to her and gives her a long deep kiss. Rachel moans into the kiss and Santana lets go of her arms and Rachel wraps her arms around Santana and the kiss goes on longer, deeper. Santana starts to fumble with Rachel's robe and Rachel moves her body so Santana can take it off of her. When Rachel is completely naked beneath her, Santana grins and starts to kiss her again, but then Santana's phone rings and both Rachel and Santana groan as Santana looks at the phone and sees that it is Mrs. Lopez calling her. Rachel drops her head back, frustrated, as Santana, still between Rachel's legs, answers the phone. Rachel tucks Santana's hair behind her ear and tugs at her as Santana talks into the phone. Santana grabs the blanket and covers herself and Rachel with the blanket.

"_Mija!_" Dr. Lopez and Mrs. Lopez say, on the speaker phone. "_Buenos dias!_ Congratulations on your baby! We're so excited! Can we talk to Rachel? We want to know _everything!_"

"Oh, god, this is a nightmare," Santana mutters now. Rachel grins and plants a soft kiss on Santana's cheek. Then out loud, Santana says, "_Gracias_, mom, dad. I'm fine, too, by the way, thanks for asking. Does everyone in Puerto Rico, Mexico, Cuba, the Dominican Republic and the rest of South America know we're pregnant?"

They both hear Carlos snicker in the background before he shouts, "Yes!" and then breaks down in laughter. As Rachel grins and gets the phone from Santana, and Santana rolls off of her wife, sitting back on the bed, and Rachel comes up to cuddle with Santana, resting her head on Santana's chest as Santana puts her arm around her wife, Santana thinks to herself, maybe things will be alright after all.

* * *

Later, Santana and Rachel are in the kitchen, Rachel in Santana's oversized gray Louisville shirt and gray sweats and Santana in one of Rachel's black "Rent" tee-shirts and shorts, both freshly showered, enjoying the morning shower they shared together in their bathroom and giving each other surreptitious looks and smiles as Kurt and Dave, who have already arrived and are chatting with them, look at both of them with wonder and confusion on their faces. Kurt is in a casual shirt and jeans, while Dave is wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and jeans. Between them, on the table, is the Starbucks coffee and the Krispy Kreme that Kurt and Dave had promised the couple. On the far end of the table is the laptop, opened to the Skype software, waiting to have Sam and the others call them. Suzie has gone out with friends, leaving a note on the fridge and a text on both of her parents' phones, promising to be home soon, which, in Suzie-speak, could be anywhere between now and just before eight or nine in the evening, which is the time they expect Suzie to be home.

"This is _so_ good," Rachel says now, between mouthfuls of donut, before she grabs the whipped cream and before anyone can say anything, she puts it in her mouth and squeezes, spraying her mouth with the whipped cream, and then rewarding everyone with a choked variation of her German Gollum "Gah!" sound, surprising everyone in a shocked silence. Kurt and Dave look at each other and make a face and Santana winces.

Kurt is the first to speak, clearing his throat. "Yes. It took us forever to find those pristinely glazed donuts you insisted we get."

"And much arguing with the Krispy Kreme people," Dave adds, with a grin. "With Kurt basically threatening them with bodily harm for the serious lack of pristinely glazed donuts."

Rachel only smiles while Santana shakes her head and mouths, "I'm so sorry."

Kurt rolls his eyes and mouths back, "It's fine."

In a few minutes, the laptop starts ringing, and Santana moves to accept the call and in a few seconds, Quinn, Mike and Tina, Sam and Mercedes are all on the screen, waving at Rachel, Santana, Kurt and Dave.

"Hey everyone!" Sam says, a big grin on his face. Everyone says "Hey!" back, and after the initial, perfunctory greetings, where everyone asks everyone else how everyone else is doing, and everyone gives a brief update about work, family, kids and life in general, and everyone congratulates and gushes about Rachel and Santana and the baby on the way, Sam peers into the webcam, grins and says, "Congrats on the baby by the way! So, how's our favorite lesbian power couple?" Before either woman can reply, Sam says, "But, before you answer, let's get this out of the way first. One, is the pregnancy real or imaginary? Because, well, it might be a hysterical pregnancy, like that one time Mr. Schue's first wife thought she was pregnant but she really wasn't? And she kind of jumped the gun and told Mr. Schue but it turned out negative and she couldn't take it back so she started wearing that pregnant suit and I'm not saying Rachel might be faking it but whatever. And two, is it yours?"

As the others roll their eyes, smirk, or snicker, Santana scowls at Sam and says, "Sam, one, you're an insensitive jackass. Two, no, it's _not_ a hysterical pregnancy, if you want the medical records and all the test kits Rach peed on, she peed on hundreds of those, we'd be more than happy to provide you with those. And three, yes, it's _ours_. My egg is healthy, and unlike you, the guy we got wasn't shooting blanks."

"Aaaw, snap!" Mike says, laughing.

"Sam Evans, zero, Santana Lopez, one," Mercedes says, grinning.

"Isn't that always the score?" Tina says. "For quite some time now. Let's just get this out of the way, too. Sam, you're an idiot."

"Hey, I'm not shooting blanks," Sam mutters, blushing. He looks down and says, "She's kidding, boys. Don't worry about it." Then he looks up at the webcam again and says, "You've hurt my boys' feelings."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Whatever, Sam." Then she lightly tugs at Rachel, puts her arms around her, looks at Sam squarely and she says, "And before I forget, Rachel never fakes it with me. _Ever_. Unlike the girls who probably dated you. Do you really want to go there?"

Sam swallows as the others start to laugh again, Rachel blushes and hits Santana playfully on the arm and Mike says, "Sam Evans, zero, Santana Lopez, two. Seriously, Sam, do _not_ go there."

"Sorry," Sam mutters now as Santana smirks at him.

Dave leans over and whispers to Kurt, "I'm always amazed at how any conversation between these two always end up having any kind of…innuendo…"

Kurt smiles. "Join the club."

"Sam, what the hell are you wearing?" Quinn asks.

"Yeah, what are you wearing, Sam?" Santana asks.

Sam looks down. "What? It's a shirt. It's Italian. It's really expensive."

"I can see your nipples through the _blouse_, Sam," Santana says. "Not something I want to see first thing in the morning."

"I can't believe I used to go out with you," Mercedes comments now, rolling her eyes.

Sam smirks. "Whatever, dudes. Kurt wears the most hideous outfits and you guys don't mind! And every time I see him wear anything, like a dead animal on his body, I'd be like, 'Oh my god, what is Kurt wearing, what is Kurt wearing?'"

Kurt glares at him. "I'm right here, Sam."

The others smirk and snicker as Sam continues, "It's true though. But hey, you look nice now. Must be all that fashion design school stuff you've been doing! And Dave! Can't wait to see those pants with elastic waist bands that you will inevitably design for Rachel!"

"Shut _up!_" Kurt says now, blushing as everyone laughs.

But Sam is oblivious as he leans down and comes back up with a Darth Vader helmet in his hands. "Hey, check it out, I'm Darth Vader for Comic Con!" Sam says now, and he puts on the helmet and says, in his best James Earl Jones' voice, "Luke, I am your father."

"You sure you weren't diagnosed with ADD or dementia or something instead of dyslexia?" Santana asks now.

"No, he was diagnosed with an extreme, rare form of _geekasitis_ and _dorkasitis_," Mike says. "It's incurable."

"Sam, did you have too much caffeine again?" Mercedes asks.

"When does he ever _not_ have too much caffeine?" Tina asks now.

Everyone laughs as Mike says, "That's it, no more coffee for you. Or any kind of stimulant for that matter…"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "You totally need to get laid, Sam. I thought you guys were supposed to hook him up with someone?"

Tina looks at the webcam apologetically. "I'm so sorry. I got him herbs from Mike's mom's garden, to improve his marriage chi and stuff, but it doesn't seem to be working. We're seriously thinking about fixing him up with a matchmaker or a dating service, but he doesn't want any of those."

"The stinky tofu is doing wonders for my health, though! Thanks to Mike's mom!" Sam says now. "Besides, you make it sound like I can't get my laid on my own. I can, too, you know. A lot of women scream my name…"

"Mostly because you've stepped on their foot or walked into the girl's shower by accident, in the gym," Mike says now.

Quinn leans towards the webcam now. "You seriously have no game, Sam."

"I have game," Sam insists.

"No, you don't," Mercedes says now, with a smile.

Quinn smirks. "No, you _really_ don't. Do you see anyone else who's single here?"

Sam thinks about this for a moment as he stares into the webcam and says, "Hmmm…you have a point."

"I mean, Suzie's got game. And even Rachel's got game," Quinn says now. "And I wouldn't have touched her with a ten-foot pole. No offense Santana."

Santana shrugs. "None taken. Actually, I'd prefer it that way."

Quinn smirks.

"And also, you just told me when you play 'Mass Effect', you play that woman who's in love with that other woman," Mike says.

Everyone falls silent.

"So, you're playing a lesbian in a video game?" Santana asks now to everyone erupting in laughter.

"I don't care what you say, that game is awesome!" Sam says now. "I mean who doesn't want to look twenty five at one hundred six? Plus she's an awesome Prothean expert! That's archeologist to you, non-gamers!"

"Yet another reason you're single," Mike mutters now.

"Hey, Santana used to play the guy in that game! You guys don't think that's weird?" Sam says defensively now. "Not that I'm judging. I think the lady character just has a cooler voice!"

Santana makes a face. "I think playing the guy is cool. Not that I want to be a man or anything. I'm a lesbian, who _doesn't_ hate men, not a man trapped in a woman's body. Unlike Kurt."

"Hey!" Kurt says, offended.

"Just kidding, Hummel," Santana says now, with a smirk on her face.

"But you also play girl characters in other games, too" Mike points out to Sam now. "Like when we used to do Dungeons and Dragons, you insist on being called Shiva the Burninator or something…and for some strange reason, you always end up being frozen in a time flux with the mystical strength of a doily."

"Oh my god, Mike, shut _up_," Sam says now, as everyone laughs. Then he rolls his eyes. "You guys need to understand, I'm a lone wolf. I don't think I was meant to _be_ with anyone. Besides having a partner just takes valuable time out of my video game time. I like playing with myself." When everyone gives him an odd look, he quickly corrects himself and says, "_By_ myself, by myself. Sorry."

"Good luck with that," Mike mutters.

Quinn makes a face. "Since when do you refer to a girlfriend as a _partner?_"

Sam only smiles sheepishly.

"Sam, all you need to do is give a girl flowers and don't talk," Quinn says, rolling her eyes.

"Don't talk? To her? Are you serious?" Sam asks. "Not even, like, ask her how her day was, or how she is, or whatever…?"

"I mean, to me, don't talk to me, or _any_ of us, really," Quinn says, with a smirk, rolling her eyes.

Everyone snickers.

"And try not to think about Coach Beiste, too," Quinn adds. "Or Finn's mailman."

Before he can stop himself, Sam says, "Well, I find what really works for me is thinking of Principal Figgins…" When everyone starts to make a face and laugh, Sam hurriedly says, "No, wait, that came out wrong. I meant, to keep myself from…arriving too early."

Santana smirks. "I don't think that was your problem, Sam. I think your problem was you never arrived _at all_."

Sam starts to blush then he peers into the webcam and whines, "Quinn! That was just one time! You _told_ me you wouldn't tell anyone that!" to the sound of everyone else laughing.

"Too late!" Santana says, smirking.

"Hold on, 'scuse me a sec," Quinn says, smiling, as she moves away from the webcam to Sam looking at her exasperated. "Back in a sec."

Sam says, "Oh, that's just great, Quinn, really great. Abandon me in my time of greatest need, like you always did when we were going out."

Quinn comes back to the webcam to roll her eyes. "Well, if you showed a bit more sensitivity than telling me, in your awful Joey Tribiani voice…" and here, Quinn lowers her voice and says, "'Hey, babe, how you doin?' I'm feeling horny, wanna make out?' I'd have helped you in your hour of greatest need."

The boys start to tease Sam as he sits there feeling uncomfortable and Quinn sits back smirking at him. Quinn waves at everyone and disappears from the screen.

"Anyway," Sam says now, struggling to change the topic, "First of all, can I just say, Woohoo! Rachel's pregnant! Congrats, you guys! Thought Kurt would get pregnant first before you!"

Mike and the others smirk as Kurt rolls his eyes.

Santana says, "Kurt can't get pregnant. His menstrual cycle is irregular."

Mike and Sam laugh some more. Santana's phone, which is on the table, buzzes, so she picks it up, checks for messages and puts it back on the table.

"Thought you guys started synchronizing your menstrual cycles or something!" Mike jokes now.

"Shut _up_," Kurt says now.

"So, Kurt, what brand of tampons do you use?" Sam jokingly asks now. When Kurt glares at him, he says, "Just kidding."

"You guys are disgusting," Mercedes declares now.

"Thank you, Mercedes," Kurt says now.

Mike turns to Dave now, "Dude! Protect your boyfriend's honor, protect your boyfriend's honor!"

Dave laughs. "I'm sorry. I think I'm going to sit this one out. He makes me sleep on the couch if I join in on these things."

Kurt blushes, as Dave just grins at him and Mike and Sam laugh even harder. Quinn appears on the screen again and waves at everyone. Everyone waves back.

"You are so whipped, Dave!" Sam says.

"Shut _up_, man!" Dave says.

"Aaaw, I think it's cute," Tina says, watching Kurt shift closer to Dave as Dave takes a sip of his coffee. "I'd love to see you guys settle down and have kids of your own."

Dave almost spits out his coffee at the last part of Tina's statement, making Mike and Sam laugh harder and Santana and Quinn smirk, Rachel smile and Kurt blush profusely.

"So, Rachel is pregnant, and this calls for…a baby shower!" Tina says, oblivious.

"Or at the very least, a stag party!" Sam says. "Preferably with strippers and hookers."

"Hell yeah!" Mike seconds.

"Double hell yeah!" Sam says. "I mean we didn't get to have a stag party during your wedding!" Then Sam starts singing, "_Because you gotta fight, for your right, to paaaaarteeee!_"

Rachel makes a face as the others laugh and Sam says, "Awesome episode by the way, Rachel."

Mike grins, lifts his hands up and starts to sing, "_So I put my hands up, they're playing my song…Knowing I'm gonna be okay…Party in the U.S.A...!"_

"_Grab somebody sexy, tell them hey!_" Sam says before he and Mike sing Pitbull's song "Give Me Everything Tonight" together, "_Give me everything tonight, give me everything tonight…!_"

Mercedes knits her eyebrows. "I'm confused, how are strippers and hookers connected to baby showers?" Mercedes asks.

"Nobody knows," Tina says. "I think they'll come up with any excuse to party."

"Women, they never get these things," Sam says, shaking his head. Mike nods in agreement.

Tina rolls her eyes and ignores the boys. "What are your plans for the baby shower?" Tina excitedly asks the women now.

Santana looks at them and smiles through the small tendril of panic forming in the pit of her stomach, feeling self-conscious at the attention her friends are showering on them. "Sorry. I have a family. I don't make plans."

Everyone laughs as Rachel puts her arms around Santana and smiles at her, before kissing her on the cheek, making the boys say "Eeeww" and the girls say "Aaaww".

Sam says, "Well, we totally need a party! Let's celebrate Rachel's triumph over her dusty old uterus! I mean at your advanced age, it must have been hard to conceive!"

"You're a jerk, Sam," Mercedes comments as Mike starts to laugh and Quinn smirks.

Rachel glares at Sam on the webcam. "I'll have you know, I'm not that old…I'm just…in my late twenties…" When everyone but Santana just looks at Rachel with incredulous looks and smirks on their faces, Rachel quickly corrects herself and says, "Alright, alright, _early_ thirties…" and her voice trails off as everyone snickers. One of the disadvantages of keeping in touch with high school friends is, of course, everyone knows how old everyone else is, something that doesn't work well for Rachel, who works in an industry where age is _everything_.

Quinn makes a point of saying it now. "No, you're not! We _know,_ Rachel. We all went to high school together! You're at least in the mid-thirties like everyone else here is!"

Rachel ignores Quinn and says, "Whatever. And it's not dusty down there!"

"I'm sure," Sam says, "I bet Santana tends to your garden very well." Sam snickers.

Santana scowls at Sam. "You're such an asshole, Sam."

"Fine, fine, except for that hint of a crow's feet by your eyes," Sam says to Rachel now, "You don't look a day over twenty five, Rachel."

Rachel makes a face and says, "I don't know if I'm supposed to be flattered or insulted by that."

Santana narrows her eyes and says, to Sam, "Did you just come on to my wife?"

"Huh?" Sam says, realizing he had just made a mistake, before quickly saying, "Uh, no, no, I wasn't." Sam shifts uncomfortably in his seat as everyone else but Santana snickers and Sam clears his throat and, trying to change the subject, he says, "Oh, hey, where's that hot young spawn of yours, Suzie?"

Santana's expression grows even darker and she scowls. "Did you just…describe our daughter as hot?"

Sam shrugs. "Well, yeah. She is kind of hot."

The others fall silent, and lean towards the webcam and wait with bated breath for Santana's comment.

Santana does not disappoint. She narrows her eyes, and says, coldly, "If you _ever_ come on to my wife or describe our daughter as hot ever again, or even so much as hint at coming on to Suzie, Sam, I'll take the next flight out to California, cut off your balls and make you eat them for dinner! And then I'll cut off your dick and stick it up your doorway to serve as a warning to anyone who _ever_ comes on to Suzie!"

Mike, Quinn, Tina, Kurt and Dave throw back their heads and laugh, even as Sam starts to blush.

"Dude, never change, _never_ change!" Mike says to Santana between laughter.

When everyone recovers from laughing, Sam recovers enough to say, "I'm not into Rachel or your daughter, dude. Geez. That's gross. What is with all the violence, Santana? I'd have thought marrying Rachel Berry and parenthood would have mellowed you down…"

"It actually made her more bad ass," Mike pipes in.

"But hey, bring it on, _Salsa Caliente!_" Sam says now.

Santana narrows her eyes. "Call me that again, Sam Evans, and I _will_ kick you in the 'nads."

Kurt, Dave and Mike make a face, imagining Santana kicking Sam in the balls. Rachel shakes her head as Quinn and the rest of the ladies smile or smirk.

Sam grins and doing his best ghetto voice, he says, "Santana, I'm disappointed in you. What's with all the hate? Why you be hatin' on me, woman?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Why you be goin' ghetto on me, white boy?"

Sam grins as the others laugh and he says, "Hey, Santana!"

"What?" Santana barks.

Sam starts singing Pat Benatar's 'Hit Me With Your Best Shot', _"Let's see how you do it… Put up your dukes…let's get down to it…Hit me with your best shot, why don't you hit me with your best shot…fire away…!"_

Mike and Dave start to snicker again, even as Quinn smirks. Santana only raises one eyebrow and says, evenly "Sorry, I can only sing that song with a dodgeball in my hand and I'm aiming for your balls."

"Stay away from my balls!" Sam says, mock indignantly. "You don't get to go there again!"

"You wish!" Santana says with a smirk.

"Stay away from everyone's balls!" Kurt says now.

Quinn laughs. "Remember that time when Kurt ran for president on a platform of…"

"Making all the guys go around shirtless?" Sam supplies.

Kurt glares at him as Quinn rolls her eyes and continues, "…Banning dodgeball?"

"Remember when Rachel backed out of the presidency?" Mike adds. "I'd have wanted to know what her platform would have been!"

"Dude, I'm disappointed you don't know Rachel enough to know that her platform would be…" Sam says, stopping dramatically, before continuing, "Playing Broadway showtunes at all hours of the day on the hallowed hallways of McKinley!"

Everyone starts to laugh Sam says, "'Evita' would be required listening! And she would have forced everyone to build a large, elevated platform for her where she can make her presidential speeches and she can raise her arms like this, Evita style!" Then Sam raises his arms in the famous Evita Peron stance that Madonna popularized in the movie musical, "Evita". Then he starts singing, _"Don't cry for me, oh, McKinley…The truth is…I never left you…All through my wild days…my mad existence…I kept my promise…don't keep your distance."_

"I hate you, Sam Evans," Rachel declares now to everyone's howls of laughter. Santana smiles at Rachel and rubs her back in sympathy.

"Oh, Brittany's platform was the best!" Sam speaks up now, "Topless Tuesdays! Would have loved to see Rachel's! Even though she was flat-chested. But hey, look on the bright side, how awesome is it that Rachel is pregnant? Her boobs will totally get bigger now without boob surgery!"

Mike and Sam grin as Rachel blushes and Santana rolls her eyes and says, "Stay away from my wife's skeeter bites, moron!"

"Oh, oh, I want to sing a song for Rachel!" Sam says now, grabbing a guitar and starts strumming…

"_Isn't she lovely, _

_Isn't she wonderful?_

_Isn't she precious?_

_Less than one minute old?_

_I never thought true love could make one as lovely as she…?"_

There is a collective silence in the room but there's an indescribable expression on Santana's face. Quinn leans closer to the webcam and says, "Sam, that was lovely, but you're a moron. Artie sang that to Brittany once."

There is an awkward silence now as Sam sheepishly says, "Sorry. I forgot."

"Yeah, I distinctively remember you strumming the guitar to that one, too!" Tina says now. "In Home Ec. I think McKinley's the only school that still has Home Ec."

"Alright, alright, another song then! Sorry, the old noodle isn't what it used to be," Sam says, stopping to think, before he starts to strum the guitar and starts singing the first lines of The Pretenders' "I'll Stand by You."

"_Oh, why you look so sad?_

_Tears are in your eyes_

_Come on and come to me now_

_Don't be ashamed to cry_

_Let me see you through_

_'Cause I've seen the dark side too  
When the night falls on you_

_You don't know what to do_

_Nothin' you confess, could make me love you less…"_

Kurt makes a face. "Um, maybe you shouldn't sing that song, Sam."

"Why? Oh, well, whatever," Sam says now, before he starts strumming the guitar again and starts to sing the song,

"_You're having my baby_

_What a lovely way to say you love me_

_You're having my baby…"_

Quinn's expression grows dark as she says, between gritted teeth, "I _fucking_ hate that _fucking_ song."

Everyone is surprised at Quinn's reaction. Quinn rarely swears so when she does, it surprises everyone, including Sam, into silence.

"Yeah, what the _fuck_, Sam?" Santana joins in. "That's like, the worst song _ever_. And why are you singing that song to my wife?"

Sam, as surprised by everyone by Quinn's reaction, is flustered and speechless and in the camera, looks vaguely embarrassed, slightly flushing red. "Sorry."

Thankfully, Jeffrey comes up to the webcam with Aidan in tow and he says, "Hey, you guys! Morning!"

Everyone greets Jeffrey and Aidan good morning as Quinn makes room for them. Aidan is now a handsome eight year old and is as blond as Quinn, almond shaped eyes and slightly tanned skin revealing his Asian heritage. Quinn moves away from the webcam a bit, leaning away from the webcam, looking at something, whilst looking distracted. Santana's phone buzzes and she steps away from the webcam to reply to her phone. Rachel glances at Santana before she returns to her friends chatting with everyone else. Rachel knows Santana gets calls or texts from the office or from clients, sometimes at all times of the day or night, and since she is so used to it, she just lets Santana attend to what she needs to do as she listens to her friends' conversation. Jeffrey and Aidan then wave goodbye as Quinn moves to the center of the webcam again. When Santana is done replying on her phone, she puts the phone down on the counter and rejoins the others, putting her arm around her wife as she does so.

"What are you guys talking about now?" Santana asks now, kissing Rachel's head as she does so.

"Rachel's demon baby!" Sam says now, throwing his arms out in a grand gesture.

"You are such a jackass, Sam," Santana says. "Next time you come for a visit to New York, we are so totally letting you freeze to death on our doorstep."

"Unless it's summer," Mike says, "In which case, they'll just let you die of a heat stroke on their doorstep."

Everyone laughs again, while Sam only grins, completely unfazed by Santana's threats. "Aaaww, I've missed you, too, Santana," he says, smiling on the screen. "Oh, hey, Rachel, you've been taking those fertility pills haven't you? Those things can mess with your body. So there's a chance you'd have like, twins or triplets or you know, have octoplets! Like OctoMom!"

"Octoplets? OctoMom?" Santana asks now, horrified at the thought.

"Well, yeah," Sam says. "But if you had octoplets, that would be cool, you could have your own Glee Club!"

Tina sighs and rolls her eyes. "We've been through this. You need _twelve_ to qualify. Didn't Mr. Schue keep telling us we need twelve to qualify? God knows why, the Ohio show choir rule book is confusing. And also arbitrary."

"Then you guys can get pregnant again, hopefully with quadruplets, so you can complete the club!" Sam says matter-of-factly, grinning.

"Hmmm…twins?" Mike asks now. "Scary. I can't imagine twins, let alone triplets or octoplets! I mean that's Rachel and Santana's _spawn_. What if one of them ate the other in the womb? Or strangled one another with the umbilical cord? That's going to be a bloodbath!"

"Or worse, they both _survive_ and they have to fight each other for who gets to go to college first!" Sam says.

"Dude, the smarter one gets to go to college, _duh!_" Mike says now. "Or at the very least they get to have a mash-off to decide who gets to go to college first!"

"Dude, if twins sing a duet, wouldn't that be weird?" Sam asks now. "That sounds like…vocal masturbation or something."

"Yeah, Kurt already has dibs on vocal masturbation," Mike comments with a grin. "Right, Kurt?"

"Shut _up_," Kurt says.

"Even worse, what if your _baby_ ate its way out of your uterus?" Sam asks Rachel and Santana now.

"Wait, last time we checked Rachel wasn't a vampire," Mike said.

Sam looks at Mike now. "Think we should push her out into the sun and see if she _glitters_?"

"You guys are morons," Santana says now. "Why are we friends with you again?"

"Because we let you emasculate us and it's fine…" Sam says. When everyone starts to laugh, he quickly says, "No wait, that came out wrong…!"

"I'm mostly curious about what a Rachel and Santana spawn would look like," Mercedes says now with a smile.

"Easy enough!" Sam says, "Whenever I think of a Rachel and Santana spawn, I think of that kid, Damian, in 'The Omen', or if it's a girl, that girl from 'The Exorcist'!"

"We hate you all," Santana says now to everyone's laughter as Rachel smiles, pulls Santana close and hugs her.

"Mostly I just think he or she would be like…Suzie, but multiplied a hundred times," Mike jokes. "Like to the nth power."

Everyone laughs as both Rachel and Santana roll their eyes.

"Oh, you know what would be cool?" Sam asks. He doesn't wait for anyone to answer as he continues, "If, you know, pregnant ladies would have, like, little windows in their bellies so all these questions we have would be answered right away."

Mike makes a face. "I don't know. I kind of like the excitement of not knowing till the last minute what the baby's sex is."

"Yes, because that worked out so well for us when I gave birth to our child," Tina says sarcastically.

"I don't know though what kind of little window that would be," Sam says thoughtfully now. "Like, would it be like a sliding window? Or double glazed? And then it would have venetian blinds or something?"

Rachel, Santana, Mike, Tina, Mercedes, Kurt and Dave all look at each other then at Sam's face on the screen and spend a few minutes in silence before Santana says, "I don't even know if that statement should be dignified with an answer. And I agree with Mercedes. I can't believe I used to date you."

"I second that," Quinn says now.

"Oooh, do you guys know yet whether it's a boy or girl?" Sam asks now.

"Um, no, not yet," Rachel says now.

"Ooh, I'm calling it!" Sam says, "It's totally a boy!"

"Naw, it's totally a girl!" Mike says.

"This sounds like a bet that's just waiting to happen!" Sam says.

"Oh, god, not this again," Kurt says, rolling his eyes and turning to Dave and shaking his head.

Dave grins as he puts his arm around Kurt. Santana and Rachel look at each other, shake their heads and roll their eyes.

"You guys are hopeless," Rachel declares as everyone starts to work out the bets, with Sam writing them down on a piece of paper.

"Oh, even better, we should totally bet when their child's gets born!" Sam says now, in between jotting down the bets.

"Cool! Count me in!" Mike says.

When they finish working out the bets, Mike grins, peers into the webcam and says, "I am _so_ going to win! You going down, Sam!"

"No freaking way, Mike. If I go down, you're going down on me!" Sam says.

There is a silence as everyone looks at everyone else. Santana looks at Rachel and Rachel shakes her head and shrugs.

"Did he just…?" Kurt says, wondering.

Dave shakes his head. "I don't know…"

But then, Suzie chooses this time to come into the kitchen and everyone, Rachel, Santana, Dave, Kurt, Quinn, Sam, Mike and Tina greet her, effectively taking the attention away from Sam. They notice the bespectacled Asian looking boy that is trailing her from behind and everyone gives everyone else puzzled, curious looks.

"Hey, birthday girl!" Quinn says, "Happy birthday!"

Everyone follows suit and Suzie grins and says, "Thanks everyone! Thanks for the gift by the way, Aunt Quinn" before she goes to Rachel, then Santana, kisses each one and says, "Hey, Mom." Then she turns to the others and asks, "What you guys talking about?"

"We're betting on whether it's going to be a boy or a girl," Mike informs her. "And when the baby's coming out."

Suzie grins. "Cool! I'm in. Definitely a girl! I want a baby sister! And first pregnancies are a bit tricky, so maybe around January, give or take a couple of weeks." When the others nod, she says, "Abuela and the others so need to get in on this bet, too!"

Santana clears her throat. "Hey. Aren't you introducing us to your…uh…new friend?"

Suzie, already dipping her hands into the box of donuts and taking a bite out of one, looks up and between bites, she casually says, "What? Oh, yeah, this is Raj. Raj, you already know my moms, right? Moms, Raj. That's my Uncle Dave and Kurt, that's my Aunt Quinn, my Aunt Tina, my Uncle Mike, my Uncle Sam."

Raj runs a hand on greasy hair, pushes his spectacles up on his nose, nervously shifts from one foot to the other, nods and awkwardly says, "Hey."

Everyone else nods, whilst looking at Raj suspiciously. Raj looks down at the floor as he grabs the chain hooked to his skinny jeans and plays with it, while with the other hand, he plays with the earrings on his left ear, then moves his fingers to the ring on his eyebrow. He starts to scuff his Chuck Taylors on the floor. Santana looks at Raj with undisguised distaste on her face and Rachel hits her on the arm, indicating that Suzie is in the room. Santana and Rachel have agreed about practicing the principle of tolerance in their house when it came to Suzie's friends, and Rachel is wont to remind Santana that she had been a teenager once, herself, so a modicum of civility and hospitality for Suzie's friends should be in order, but sometimes, Santana really dislikes some of the new friends Suzie has been making since Kate had transferred to California.

When Rachel excuses herself to go off to the toilet, and Suzie does the same, Sam leans over to the webcam, and says, "Hey, Raj!"

Raj looks up at the laptop and says, "Yeah?"

"Cool name," Sam says now, with a smile.

Raj knits his eyebrows, confused, and starts to fidget with his torn black shirt and says, "Uh, thanks. I guess."

"You're welcome," Sam says now, with a grin. "Say, ever seen a dead body?"

Raj, looking confused, looks at the face on the screen, and asks, "I'm sorry?"

The others try their best not to smirk as Sam shrugs and says, "A dead body. Would you like to see one?"

Raj hesitates, looking suddenly like he is trapped in a cage of hyenas, before he says, uncertainly, "Uh, no, thanks."

"Okay, suit yourself," Sam says with a sigh. "But if you ever hurt Suzie, you are so dead. I've got a shovel and a shotgun in the back of my car."

The others start to snicker as Raj's eyes widen slightly and he pushes his glasses up on his nose and starts to shift again from one foot to the other, nervous and uncomfortable.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Don't listen to Sam, Raj, he's just messing with you." She then looks at Sam on the screen and says, "You don't even drive. You bike to work."

Sam smiles sheepishly as everyone laughs. "I drive. My car's in the garage."

"That's because you got arrested so many times for speeding, Sam," Santana says now.

Sam pretends he doesn't hear this part as he continues on, amidst the snickers from the others, "You better watch it, Raj, me and Suzie? We're tight, and I'd hate to see anyone hurt her. Me and Mike here, see…"

Santana cuts him off and says, "Mike? What will Mike do? Dance him to death?"

The others laugh as Raj looks at Santana, relieved, swallows and nods, looking at her gratefully.

But then Santana says, "You should be afraid of Dave. He beats people up for a living."

Raj now looks at Dave, who smiles at him before he gets up off his stool and Raj looks up at Dave, swallows and manages to say, with a slight quake in his voice, "You're so…tall."

Dave only grins. "She's kidding. I don't beat people up for a living."

Raj nods, relieved, but then Dave's grin disappears as he says, "But I will if I have to. Especially where Suzie is concerned. Although, you should actually be more afraid of her Aunt Quinn. That lady's batshit crazy."

Quinn looks at the webcam, raises her eyebrows in acknowledgement and grins at Raj.

There is a silence as Raj takes this in and everyone can see the visible swallow he takes, his Adam's apple moving up and down on his throat. Santana can swear if it were possible, and if the poor young man weren't already as nervous as he is, he would have probably wet himself right then and there. As it is, Santana thinks there is some sweat breaking out of the boy's forehead and he actually tries to wipe them off with trembling fingers.

Thankfully, Rachel and Suzie come back and Raj looks at Suzie, relieved and says, "I've…got to go. I'll see you at school, aight?"

"Yeah, sure, you can show your way out, right?" Suzie says, nodding distractedly, thumbing through her phone.

Raj doesn't let her finish as he rushes to the kitchen door, slams his face on the door and scrambles out in the hallway to the front of the door. As they all hear the front door slam, Santana and the others smirk in satisfaction.

Meanwhile, Suzie's phone then rings and she smiles and answers it and says, "Hey, Kate…Yeah…I'm fine…You?...That's great…Yeah, they're here…Yeah, it's kind of awesome…Hold on…"

She then looks up at Rachel and Santana and hands the phone to them. "It's Kate. She wants to talk to you guys."

Rachel smiles as she accepts the phone, talks to Kate and hands the phone to Santana when she is done talking to her. The conversation carries on around them, and when they are done talking to Kate, Dave looks at them, and asks, "So, what are you going to name the baby?"

Rachel and Santana look at each other and shrug. "We haven't decided yet," Rachel says, "I mean there's so much to choose from. And we have to choose the right one too, because you know, name is destiny and all that."

"I can't wait for the diagrams and PowerPoint presentations for this one," Mike jokes, grinning.

Rachel rolls her eyes as Santana grins. Rachel turns to her and the grin disappears on her face and she shakes her head defensively.

"Because I think 'Michelle' by the Beatles would be awesome," Dave continues, grinning, and starts singing, "_Michelle_, _ma belle…_"

"Naw," Sam says now, "_'Ben!' Ben, you're always running here and there…_"

It is Kurt's turn to make a face. "I hate that song." When everyone turns to him he shrugs and says, "I thought it was a love song. Then I found out it was about rats. Eeeww…"

The others start to give their own suggestion for names.

"Donna! Ritchie Valens!"

"Jack! Or Diane!"

"Janie! Because Aerosmith!"

Mercedes grins. "Aisha!"

"Mickey!" Sam shouts, before he starts to sing, "Mickey", "Because, '_Oh_, _Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind, hey Mickey'!_" Then he stops and shouts, "Or, 'Sweet Caroline'!"

Rachel makes a face. "I don't like that song," she says.

Quinn, Santana, Mercedes, Mike and Tina, instantly remember the reason why.

"Oooh, Drizzle! I like that name!" Sam says excitedly now, "'Cause that's like the most perfect kind of rain. And it's kind of original. It's like when Frank Zappa called his kids Dweezil and Moon!"

Mike rolls his eyes. "Why don't you just call him or her Tornado or Hurricane and get it over with?!"

Sam thinks about this for a minute. "Hmmm…that's not too bad, too!"

Quinn narrows her eyes and says, "Drizzle? Seriously? Are you retarded or something, Sam?"

"What?" Sam asks, confused. "I was just…playing around…"

"Quinn…" Santana says, shaking her head, suddenly remembering vaguely why Quinn is a bit sensitive about this.

"Wow, everyone's so sensitive today," Sam mutters now, looking like a disappointed little boy. "Are you guys PMS-ing or something? Sorry. Take it easy you guys. Stress is the number one cause of herpes. I mean headaches, _headaches_."

Quinn takes a deep breath and smiles at Sam apologetically. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Sam says, recovering easily. "It's cool." Then his face lights up again, as he says, "Oh, oh, I got a list of names for you. As soon as I got off the phone with Suzie last night, I put a list together for you guys…Well, I got it from marathoning John Hughes' movies, but whatever. Okay here we go…" He gets pieces of paper and starts to rattle off names, "Bor-Bor…Cryoborg…Gandorf…Klaus…Valdor…Slagathor…Nargalzius…Vortegur… Adolph…Conan…Humbert…Beauford… Igor… Grover…"

Each name he rattles off is met either a violent shake of the head, or a wince or a grimace or Santana and Rachel shouting, "No!" or "Hell, no!" to Sam's suggestions, whilst Suzie says, "I like Igor! Igor Berry Lopez! Grover Berry Lopez! Humbert Berry Lopez! Awesome!"

The others laugh as Santana rolls her eyes and says, "Sure, if you want him always bullied at the back of the school."

Sam grins affectionately at Suzie. "You're crazy, Suzie, you know that?"

Suzie rolls her eyes. "You're one to talk, Uncle Sam." Then she looks at the webcam and says, "And I'm not crazy, my moms had me tested."

Sam, Kurt, Dave and the others look at Rachel and Santana.

Rachel smiles and says, matter-of-factly, "Yes, it's true. She's so smart though, with an I.Q. that's off the charts and we're very proud of her."

Suzie grins at Rachel and comes up to her and hugs her. "Thanks, Mom!" She then pulls back and says, "I'm still all for Blue Berry Lopez, if you still want it."

Rachel smiles, running a hand lovingly on her daughter's cheek.

Meanwhile Sam continues to rattle of the last of the names and when she finishes the last of the names, he sighs and says, "No? No?" When everyone shakes their head "No", he says, "Tough crowd. Anyway, if you ever need a babysitter, you know where to look. Not that I think Kurt is a terrible babysitter, but I'm just saying, I read Dr. Spock's book…and it's not about Star Trek!"

"Hey, I'd love to stay and chat with you guys, but I've really got to go," Quinn says, now. "I'll catch you all later, okay?"

As Santana listens to the banter between and among her friends and her wife, and as they all say goodbye to Quinn, her mobile phone buzzes so she grabs it from off the table, checks who it is, untangles herself from her wife and excuses herself, putting a reassuring hand on Rachel's shoulder. Rachel's hand comes up to quickly hold Santana's hand. Santana steps out into the hallway and heads to her small office down the hallway, closes the door and answers the call.

* * *

When she is safely ensconced in her office, away from the kitchen and the noise and chatter of her wife, daughter and friends chatting with each other, sitting comfortably and leaning back on her swivel chair whilst her feet up is up on her mahogany desk, she says into the mobile phone, "What's up, bitch?"

"You are such a jackass," Quinn says on the other line.

"What?" Santana asks.

"Whatever. Congrats on the baby, by the way," Quinn says now.

Santana sighs barely audibly. "Thanks. How about you? How are you?"

"I'm good. Thanks." Then, there is a silence that falls between them. Quinn does not seem to know what else to say, and Santana is quiet as well. Then Quinn says, ever so carefully, "You're freaking out."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. I could see it on your face once they started talking about twins and names and stuff."

"I _really_ am not."

"Oh, my god, you _so_ are."

"Shut _up_," Santana says.

Quinn chuckles. "You _so_ are," she says in a sing-song, teasing voice. "Don't deny it."

"Am not," Santana says, indignantly.

"Are too," Quinn insists.

"What are we, _twelve?_" Santana asks now. "Leave me alone, bitch."

"Just admit you're freaking out and I'll leave you alone," Quinn says. "If you were here, I'd have slapped you again."

"If I were there, I'd have slapped you back."

"Whatever, Santana," Quinn says, unfazed. "Listen, I'm flying to Washington in a few days or so, and I'm dropping by New York, I've got some stuff to do there, you want to meet up over drinks or something?"

Santana closes her eyes and nods. "Okay."

"Okay. I'll call you as soon as I get to New York," Quinn says now. "I could use a break anyway. I'm sure you're dying to process all of this like the real gold star lesbian that you are!"

"Fuck you, Q," Santana says now.

Quinn snorts. "Whatever, Santana." Then Santana hears Quinn clear her throat and her voice shift, into a lighter, more concerned voice as she says, "Take it easy. I'll see you soon."

* * *

A few days later, Santana meets Quinn at some bar in town right after work and they choose a table that gives them some measure of privacy and an opportunity to talk. Santana has opted for a small, low key pub because Quinn loathes the "pretentious bars" that New York has to offer and finds pubs closer to the ones in Lima.

As Quinn slides into her seat and Santana slides across from her on the other seat, Quinn says, "Just so we're clear, we're _not_ going to get drunk, okay? You get weird when we get drunk."

Santana rolls her eyes, flicks her dark hair and says, indignantly, "_You_ get weird when we get drunk. And then you start talking about how you hate men or whatever. Then you start quoting Gloria Steinem. Frankly, it's like listening to Rachel's a million tirades about sexism, patriarchy and misogyny in the world, except she does it so much better than you do."

Quinn glares at her. "Did you just compare me to Rachel freaking Berry? Because I think that's the single, meanest thing you've ever said to me."

"Hey, watch it, that's my wife you're talking about," Santana says.

Quinn smirks. "Like I said, _whipped!_"

"Whatever," Santana says. "I'm ordering coffee for you. Or milk. Because anything stronger than that and you start getting weird and then you start coming on to me…"

"Shut _up_," Quinn says, starting to blush as she catches the eye of one of the waitpersons and motions for her to come.

Santana continues, "Then you suddenly have this irresistible urge to slow dance and start saying stuff like …'"

"Alright...! Alright…! Shut up already!" Quinn interrupts her now, the blush on her face growing deeper.

Santana only smirks, and continues, "And then you start getting _handsy_. And then _angry_. And then it just gets even _weirder_. It's really gross. It's like my brother coming on to me or something."

Quinn scowls at her. "Oh, screw you, Santana. That was just one time. I've been trying to forget that, seriously."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Try harder. Seriously."

"Be thankful you're my best friend, Santana, or I'd bitch slap you again like I used to do in high school," Quinn says now, raising one eye brow and smirking.

"Oh yeah? Bring it on, bitch, I can bitch slap you back to kingdom come if I want to," Santana retorts now.

When Quinn only continues to smirk, raising an eyebrow as if challenging Santana, Santana says, "Alright, alright, you've always been a genius slapper."

Quinn shrugs. "Well, you have a mean left hook, so I guess we're even."

"You're killing it in that suit by the way," Quinn says now as she looks at Santana's business suit.

"Oh, my god, not yet drunk and already beginning to hit on me," Santana says. "_Wanky_."

Quinn glares at her. "Don't flatter yourself. I just think that's a really nice suit."

Santana looks down at her suit and smiles. "Oh, this? Thanks. Rachel picked it out for me. She bought it for me."

"Yeah, you look like a flight attendant in that suit," Quinn says now, with a smirk.

Santana's smile disappears. "I am _so_ going to kick your white girl ass, Quinn."

Quinn smirks as she puts her fingers up and tries to imitate a flight attendant just before take-off, waving her hands in the air and asks, "Are you good with the flight attendant fingers?"

"Fuck you, Quinn."

Quinn laughs. "Sorry. But that scarf on your neck is a nice touch by the way."

"_Fuck_, now I won't be able to wear this without remembering you just calling it my flight attendant suit," Santana says now. When Quinn only continues to smirk, Santana says, evenly, "You sometimes still dress like a freaking convent school virgin, Quinn, so get off my case."

The smirk on Quinn's face disappears. "Whatever, Lopez," Quinn says.

When the waitperson comes to take their order, Quinn says, "Martini, dry, for me, mojitos for my friend here."

"Damn you, Quinn, I said nothing stronger than coffee!" Santana hisses, as the waitperson smiles, nods and moves off with their orders. Santana catches the woman's ass as she walks away and smirks at the curve of her butt and the smoothness of thighs not covered by her tight skirt.

"What?" Quinn says, running a hand on her blonde hair. She grabs her bag, rummages in it for her compact, and taking it out and opening it, she looks at herself in the mirror before she returns it in her bag, all the while saying, "Relax. I'm not going to go weird on you. Don't wig out, seriously."

Santana snorts as she leans back on the leather chair and folds her arms in front of her, but her eyes are on the woman moving off to the counter. When Quinn notices that Santana isn't replying and is, instead, checking out the woman who had taken their order, Quinn kicks Santana under the table.

"Ow!" Santana yelps. "Bitch, that hurt!"

"Are you listening to me? You were checking out that girl," Quinn accuses Santana as she gestures towards the direction of the woman.

"I wasn't," Santana says, defensively.

Quinn smirks. "You so were."

"No, I wasn't," Santana insists.

Quinn laughs. "You _so_ were. It's fine. I forget you're gay until you start checking out girls."

Santana rolls her eyes. The girl comes back and sets their drinks down on the table and both mutter their thanks as Quinn raises an eyebrow towards Santana. The girl nods at Quinn but she smiles at Santana and Quinn quickly says out loud, "So how's the wife, Santana?"

Santana glares at Quinn as the girl moves as if she hasn't heard anything, but the rest of the night, she keeps a professional distance from the women and doesn't even look at Santana.

"Bitch," Santana mutters.

"Just making sure you don't go crazy just 'cause you're freaking out over your wife being pregnant," Quinn says, matter-of-factly.

"Screw you," Santana says. "I'm so leaving now."

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry." Quinn looks at her now and asks, by way of changing the subject, "Are you driving?"

"No," Santana says. "Left the car at home."

"So you _can_ drink," Quinn says. When Santana doesn't say anything, Quinn asks with a smirk, "What, missus going to tell you off when you get home? Your spawn not happy you're going out and having a drink once in a while?"

"Shut _up_," Santana says. "Rachel's shooting some television show or other. She won't be home till later. Suzie's cool. She knows where I am. Besides, I need to get away from the house for a while. Rachel's cravings and mood swings have kicked into high gear and I seriously don't want her waking me up in the middle of the night to make _another_ run at the convenience store for some donuts. Or something."

Quinn laughs, but she raises an eyebrow at Santana.

"Alright, fine, a drink, that's _it_," Santana says. "If you start coming on to me and I punch you on the face, don't blame me!" When Quinn rolls her eyes, Santana says, with a smirk, "…Not that I blame you. I _am_ kind of hot."

Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "Cocky much?"

Santana grins. "Always."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I don't understand why you're making a big deal out of that. I've gone out drinking with Rachel like that night before you proposed to her and it was okay."

"Yeah, but Sam was there, too, so that worked in my favor," Santana says, with a smirk. "Plus you hate Rachel. That also worked in my favor."

Quinn smiles. "I don't _hate_ Rachel. Come on. Give me a little credit."

"Yeah, you _tolerate_ her," Santana says.

"No, I don't," Quinn says.

Santana and Quinn look at each for a few moments, as understanding passes between them and Santana smiles. Quinn smiles back. Santana says, "Good. Because you know you're going to be our child's godmother, right?"

The smile disappears from Quinn's face. "Oh, _shit._"

Santana throws back her head and laughs.

They talk about mundane things as they wait for their drinks to arrive, and when the drinks do arrive, they start to catch up with each other's lives, Quinn's work in Congress, the restaurant, Jeffrey, Aidan and Santana catches her up on her work at the firm, Rachel, Suzie and life in general. But there must be something in her face that hints at how she feels, because Quinn studies her face quietly and seems to be debating bringing out whatever her thoughts really are, so she holds off saying anything until a few glasses later, when she says, as she puts her glass down, and, above the din of jazz music playing, says, "I don't understand, shouldn't you be happy?"

Santana sighs. She is silent for a few seconds.

"I mean, this was what you wanted right? This was what you were trying to do for so long?" Quinn continues when Santana doesn't answer.

"It's…another kid," Santana says. "It's expenses, it's sleepless nights, possibly weeks or months of _not_ having sex and changing smelly diapers, working late nights to provide for the family…"

"I don't get it, you work late nights now anyway, so what's the diff?" Quinn asks. When Santana takes another deep breath and does not answer, Quinn says, "I don't even know why you're freaking out. It's not like you've knocked up some girl in high school and you're broke and unable to support her or the baby. You've got a good job, Rachel's making good money, what seems to be the problem?"

"I just…I don't know…" Santana says, struggling to put into words what she wants to say. This is a problem she has, she knows, her inability to voice out things that are not connected to work.

"You're probably overthinking all these things, worrying about stuff that won't even happen," Quinn says.

"I just…I don't know what to feel about all this," Santana begins. "I mean, when we'd just been trying for a baby, and it kept coming up negative, it was fine with me. As long as Rachel couldn't get pregnant, I didn't have to actually think about what would happen if she actually _got_ pregnant, you know?"

"But she _is_, and it's good, and if you can't deal with that, then you have a problem," Quinn says now.

Santana sighs. "I don't know if I'm ready for this."

Quinn snorts. "Santana, who is ready for anything? _Nobody_ is ever ready for anything. Was I ready when I got knocked up with Beth? Was I ready to give her away? I don't know. But I dealt with it the best way I could and whether it was the right choice or the wrong choice at the time, I don't know, but it was the best choice, the one that made the most sense, so I went and made that choice."

When the waitperson comes and sets down their order, Santana waits after she leaves, takes a sip of her mojito and says, "Do you ever think about her?"

Quinn looks up, squints her eyes and asks, "Who?"

Santana rolls her eyes, and says, "About Beth, duh. You were kind of wigging out when we were talking to the others and I thought maybe you were thinking about…"

Santana's voice trails off as she watches Quinn.

Quinn takes a sip of her drink, sets it down, runs a finger on the rip of her glass and is silent for a few moments before she looks up, sighs and says, "Sometimes."

Santana is silent, waiting for Quinn to say something more, but when she doesn't, she picks up her drink, not knowing what else to say.

Quinn sighs again and says, "I sometimes think about…how old she is now, what she looks like now, what she's doing, if she's happy, if she's mad at me, if she's having a good life…"

Santana is silent for a few minutes before she smiles and speaks up. "Well, Shelby adopted her, so I think she's having a good life."

Quinn nods, her gaze moving off to something beyond Santana, as if she is thinking of something else entirely. "Yeah, I think she is. I mean I had to do it, you know?" Quinn said now. "I had to give her up. I was in high school, I didn't know what I was going to do with my life, I didn't even know if I was going to be a good mother, and I was so damaged and fucked up and..."

Santana makes a face. "How is this going to make me feel better about a pregnant wife and a baby on the way?"

Quinn grins. "Sorry. I know it's not supposed to be about me, but about you, so. I'm okay now. The therapy you insisted I take helped, as you know. But anyway, I sleep knowing she's better off without me, you know? Anyway, as to you guys, I think you guys will be fine."

Quinn gives Santana a reassuring smile and Santana nods, glad her friend is here now to give her support. They are silent for a few moments as each one picks up her drink and takes a sip. Then as Santana puts her drink down, she smirks at Quinn and says, "You know, it's kind of interesting how Shelby is Rachel's birth mom and she adopts your baby…You guys are kind of…connected, whether you like it or not…"

Quinn stops and thinks about this for a moment before she says, "Oh, _shit_. _Gross_."

As Santana begins to laugh, her phone rings and she puts her hand in her bag and rummages through it for her phone and when she pulls it out, she looks at Quinn and says, "It's Rachel."

Quinn nods as Santana answers it, her tone at first happy and excited and ending the phone conversation whining and defeated, voice pausing at intervals as she listens to Rachel on the other line, "Hey, babe…Where am I?...I'm with Quinn…Remember? I told you we were going out for drinks…? Yeah, I know we're supposed to swear off drinking together…But I thought that was _only_ when you were around…But…Would you just…Come on…Let me…I was only…I'm not…Now…? Wha…? Why…? Can I just…Not even…? Just…Aaawww, baby…!"

Quinn only looks at Santana with a smug smirk on her face that breaks into an even wider smile before she ends up chuckling when Santana says goodbye to her wife with a whine.

"What?" Quinn asks. "I take it Rachel wants you home right away?"

Santana rolls her eyes but she smiles. "Yeah. She also seems to be taking issue with me drinking."

Quinn laughs. "You are so _whipped_, Santana."

"Shut up, Q," Santana says now, when she hears her phone buzz and she checks it to see who it is from and it is Rachel and Santana makes a face.

"What now?" Quinn asks. "Cravings?"

"God, yeah," Santana says. Santana furrows her eyebrow as she scrolls through the message. "Rachel wants me to buy her some dim sum. And some kosher meat…?" She makes a face. "I'd forgotten how nasty these cravings are. _Wanky._"

Quinn knits her eyebrows. "I thought she was vegetarian?"

"I thought so, too," Santana says. "She also wants some take out Chinese with chicken feet in them?"

Santana's phone buzzes again and she mutters, "Sorry" as she checks it and she looks up and says, "It's Suzie. She wants some Chinese take-out food, too."

Quinn grins. "Guess we have to finish up here, then."

Santana smiles at her apologetically. "I'm so sorry. Let's do this again some other time?"

Quinn smiles. "Sure. Say hi to my goddaughter for me. And Rachel."

"Okay," Santana says, downing the last of her mojitos. "Where you staying at? You could stay the night at the house if you want."

Quinn shakes her head as she takes a sip of the last of her martini as well. "It's fine. Got an early flight tomorrow. Missing the boys and such. Staying at a hotel near the airport."

Santana nods. "Okay."

They both gesture for the waitperson for the check and while they wait for her to bring the check, Quinn says, "It's going to be fine, okay?" As Santana stops to listen to her, Quinn continues, "Things happen for a reason, there's a reason she couldn't get pregnant before, there's a reason she's pregnant now and I think if you kind of just let go and just let it all happen and stop freaking out, it's going to be okay."

Santana nods.

"Things will work out for the best, you'll see," Quinn says, with a smile. "And you've been through a lot already. As long as you love each other and you have each other, you can get through anything."

Santana smiles. "Thanks, Q," she says.

"No problem," Quinn says. "And talk to your wife about this, not _me_, dammit. You should be working this out with her _now_, not when the baby's already twelve or twenty one or whatever."

Santana laughs. "Okay, okay, will do."

"Good," Quinn says, smiling.

* * *

That night, after Santana makes sure Quinn gets a cab and gets home safely and then searches the city for a twenty four hour Chinese take-out restaurant that serves dimsum and food with chicken feet in them, as well as a restaurant that served kosher meat as well, she comes home to find that Rachel had lost all craving for dim sum, chicken feet and kosher feet.

"What do you mean you don't want this anymore?" Santana demands to know in the kitchen as she points to the bags of take-out food she had just bought.

Suzie stays in one corner of the kitchen, eating her Chinese food with chopsticks, her headset on her head and iPod on full-blast so as not to be able to listen to what appears to be an argument brewing between her moms. She bows her head as she shovels noodles into her mouth.

Rachel shrugs. "I don't want it anymore."

Santana scowls. "I just went all around town to look for this shit, Rach and now you don't _want_ it?"

Rachel looks up at her and stares at her for a few seconds before her face crumbles up and she begins to cry. Santana is confused at first, before she realizes why Rachel is being emotional and her face softens up as she comes up to her wife, holds her and gently says, "Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. It's fine. What did you eat then?"

Rachel stops and says, "Pizza. With Tabasco sauce."

Santana makes a face and hugs her. She looks up at Suzie, who is grinning at her. Suzie takes off her headset and watches the exchange between her mothers.

Rachel pulls back and says, "Did you eat already?"

Santana shakes her head. "No, not yet."

"You hungry? You want something? I can heat up some lasagna for you, or make you enchiladas? Or something?" Rachel asks now, getting up and making to head for the cupboards and the fridge.

Santana smiles tenderly at her wife and holds on to her, pulling her back and hugging her. "No, it's fine. I can eat Chinese tonight. I draw the line at chicken feet though."

Rachel laughs, hugging Santana back. "Okay." Then she pulls back and she says. "You smell funny."

Santana knits her brows. "What?"

Rachel takes a sniff at her clothes. "You smell funny. Ugh. You smell gross, right now. And what is that perfume you're wearing?"

Santana looks at her now. "Baby, you've always liked that perfume. And I thought you liked my smell."

Suzie makes a face. "Eeeww, gross. If this is you guys doing bedroom talk, could you guys wait till I'm done with dinner? Gross."

Santana glares at Suzie.

"Sorry, mom," Suzie says, grinning mischievously. She gets up, drops the box of Chinese take-out in the trash can and announces, "Okay. Going to watch TV now. You can totally make out to your heart's content now. Seriously, if this is your way of making me abstain from sex, it's totally working. Nothing like seeing your moms make out to make you _not_ think about sex. Like, _at all_. " She snickers as she backs out whilst Santana tries her best to scowl at her and Rachel only laughs.

"You smell like alcohol…and cigarettes," Rachel says now, returning to sniffing at her wife's suit. "It smells awful."

"Baby…"

"Oh my god, your smell's making me nauseated, honey, please take a shower or something," Rachel says now, waving at Santana to go away.

"But…" Santana begins to protest, but then she sighs and steps out of the kitchen to take a shower. She actually finds herself showering at least three times that night when Rachel insists she can still smell whatever it is she thinks she is smelling on Santana.

Santana realizes this is just the beginning of what she knows will be the pregnancy from hell.

* * *

So, a pregnant Rachel Berry is no different from the normal Rachel Berry, Santana thinks, except this Rachel Berry is a bit more…Rachel Berry, upped on hormones like she's hopped up on caffeine and uppers and meth, and she has Santana clawing the cupboards, scouring the cabinets for non-existent food, or running down the convenience store, or the Chinese Take-out Restaurant, or Luigi's or Krispy Kreme, or Baskin and Robbins, buying dumplings and pepperoni pizza and pristinely glazed donuts and ice cream with flavors she hadn't even heard of or tasted and once, some Reese cups. Tabasco sauce is her condiment of choice, and she puts it on everything, including her pristinely glazed donuts, pizza and sometimes, even her ice cream. Ever since Rachel found out she is pregnant, she had slowly reduced her work, informing her agent, assistant and publicist that she wanted to take some time off to make sure the pregnancy goes as planned, so she has more free time and stays at home resting. The first three months of pregnancy are very crucial and once she gets past it, she will start working again, though not at the frenetic pace that she used to do. She still goes to the foundation, and only accepts acting or singing jobs as long as they do not stress her out or strain her too much. Which means, of course, that she has more time to bother her wife as well.

And usually, Rachel has these cravings at unholy hours of the day or night, shaking Santana awake in the middle of the night to ask her to buy her Chinese, dumplings, pizza, pristinely glazed donuts and Baskin and Robbins. Santana will almost always be groggy and irritable and they almost always end up arguing.

Whatever excuse she comes up with doesn't seem to work for Rachel: "It's the middle of the night babe…" "Baby, it's cold outside…" "Baby, I've got work tomorrow, I have to get up early…" "Baby, I'm _tired_…" Rachel seems to have a ready counter-argument, giving Santana a list of restaurants open for twenty four hours, or telling her she can always bundle up against the cold, and it's not that cold anyway, it's spring, and how the office will understand, they know Rachel's pregnant anyway, and if none of these work, Rachel brings out the big guns, which usually means, looking teary-eyed and asking Santana, "Don't you love me anymore…?" or "If you really love me…" or "You'd deprive me and your child of the needed sustenance because you're _tired_…?" and for good measure, "I'm calling your _mom_", that just makes Santana groan in frustration before she grudgingly wakes up, groggily gets up, and sleepily makes her way down to the living room, fully intending to buy whatever god-awful craving Rachel has for the week, but mostly ending up sleeping on the couch and realizing only when the rays of the early morning sun slant through the living room window that she had accidentally slept on the couch, instead of out looking for Rachel's craving. Thankfully, sometimes, Rachel herself forgets whatever she has sent Santana out to buy, complaining that she has left Rachel to sleep alone the rest of the night, alternately frustrating and annoying Santana.

The cravings do not stop there though.

Rachel has also seemed to have developed a craving for exotic and strange food as well.

Sometimes, she makes Santana buy take-out Korean spicy chicken and kimchi and take-out Thai and Vietnamese food. Once, Rachel asks Santana to look for live octopus for her which she insists she wants to eat raw, and after much arguing, Santana goes out in search for said live octopus, scouring Brooklyn for some Asian restaurant that would serve the upsetting food, but only finding incredulous, puzzled looks. She finally finds herself on the docks of the bay, looking for the octopus, and finding none, decides to buy cooked octopus and goes home, mildly miffed at this, to find that her wife has gone on to take a nap and has lost all craving for the octopus. Another time, she made Santana buy steak done rare, a little of which she only takes a bite off, before pushing it towards Santana on the table and making Santana finish it off with Suzie, whilst Santana is grumbling about how she can still see the blood in the steak to Suzie smirking.

When Rachel is not making Santana run around town like a headless chicken looking for the food she craves, she is making Santana read the many baby books that she has suddenly stacked up on, from the bookstore "Chapters" down the street. This of course means that sometimes Santana comes home to Rachel on her hands and knees going around the living room, or kitchen or the hallway or the rooms, checking whether every nook and cranny of the apartment is baby-friendly or not, and coming up with a very comprehensive report, in the form of diagrams and lists, of the things they would have to take out or fix so that the baby is not exposed to any kind of danger, like the glass table in the living room with the sharp edges that Rachel thinks the baby might hurt himself or herself with, the electric sockets that the baby might put his or finger in, the stairs that need gates on the top and the bottom so the baby doesn't crawl up or crawl down without their knowledge, the slippery bathroom tiles and bathtub, the many things in the kitchen and toilet that the baby could play with or inadvertently put in his or her mouth because of course Rachel had read up on how babies can be inquisitive and curious about a lot of things.

"Wow, this apartment is really old," Rachel mutters once as she goes over her diagrams in the kitchen, as Santana drinks her coffee, one morning. "It's a shame we can't really do as much repairs as we want to. I mean it's not ours, so. What we really need is our own house or something…"

This last part of her statement makes Santana subtly hyperventilate even more.

Rachel has become a power window-shopper as well, dragging either Santana or Suzie or both of them, to the Macy's department store, in the baby section, to look at baby clothes, socks, bottles, pacifiers, toys, cribs and any other baby accouterments that the section has. And of course, making sure that the toys they will eventually buy are safe and do not contain any lead, like she had read in the news, especially those "Made in China" ones, she had commented to Santana once. Santana points out that most toys today are made in China, so fat chance of avoiding China-made products. "Unless you just want him or her to play with wood blocks or something…" she says with a smile.

Rachel had also managed to make Dave and Kurt help her transform the guest room into a baby room, making them wallpaper half of the room baby blue, and the other half baby pink, to Rachel giving them a lecture on gender stereotyping via color coding, as well as assembling the crib for her and the toys that will be hung above the crib. There had been much discussion as well as to whether they should add clouds and trees and birds on the wall, with Rachel confused and indecisive about it, thinking that based on the many books she has read, it is too much stimulation for the baby but wanting the baby room to be nature-y and refreshing as well, whilst Dave and Kurt stand around, patiently listening to Rachel's monologue before they all decide to just partially decorate the room and complete it when the baby's almost due.

During this time, Santana had drawn the line at Rachel insisting she put her high school portrait in front of the crib so the baby can see her at all times, the portrait that she had hoped she had hidden so perfectly well in the storage closet across her office downstairs. Santana had put it on top of the closet, making sure Rachel wouldn't be able to reach it, but apparently, she had underestimated Rachel's persistence and amazing ability to find anything.

"Hell, no!" Santana had said then, vehemently, to Rachel's protests. "I am _not_ going to have the baby wake up to that hideous portrait of yours."

As Rachel whines and protests, Kurt had leaned over to Santana then and muttered, "Should have set fire to it when you had the chance!"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Unfortunately, this is how marriage works, Kurt. Not that you'd know anything about it."

Kurt rolls his eyes back at her.

As Rachel's belly slowly swells and her craziness over the whole baby thing does as well, Santana's panic and anxiety and fears and doubts continue to gnaw at her and she wants for it to go away but she cannot and yet…and _yet_…

Santana notices how Rachel seems to have been revitalized by the pregnancy, seeming to have found newfound energy, purpose in life, something much more meaningful than the work she has on Broadway, on television, in movies. And it seems more meaningful and even more fulfilling than the work she had at Brooklyn, or at her Foundation, the one part of Rachel's professional life that Santana is sure she will not give up anytime soon. Rachel goes around with such enthusiasm and excitement, and happiness and perfect peace, like she has everything she has ever wanted in life, like everything is finally complete, and at night, when she holds Santana and whispers "I love you" to her, Santana begins to think that maybe that is true as well. And there were many windows of opportunity when Santana thought maybe she should have raised her own fears and doubts to Rachel, but every time she thinks she could, and she starts broaching the subject and Rachel turns to her and asks her, earnestly, "What is it, honey?" Santana loses her nerve, swallows whatever she has to say, shakes her head and says, "Nothing." She thinks she is dreaming it, when she thinks she sees the vague disappointment and slight hint of frustration on Rachel's face, but she doesn't know how to bring it up without them ending up arguing, without her hurting Rachel, and she already knows she shouldn't be creating aggravating circumstances for her pregnant wife, since Rachel had made it clear she's avoiding anything stressful that could affect her pregnancy, after all, it had taken a _miracle_ for Rachel to get pregnant and she may not have this opportunity again. Really, all Santana wants is for her wife to be happy, and all she wants is to be the cause of that happiness and how can she bear knowing she is the cause of Rachel's unhappiness if she voices out her misgivings about this?

And Rachel only smiles, always ever understanding, loving, patient, like she has been all these years with Santana and Santana thinks maybe it's going to be okay. Maybe if she just ignores it, it will go away.

* * *

But then Santana sometimes dreams.

She has confusing nightmarish dreams of cribs, baby bottles, rattles, pacifiers, babies crying and giggling, babies of all shapes and sizes, blonde and blue-eyed, auburn-haired and brown-eyed, curly haired and almond eyed, skins pale, olive-skinned, tanned, all gurgling and babbling and crawling towards her and she tries to run away but she finds that she has been caught by one of the babies and she finds herself being roped and tied and pegged to the ground like Gulliver in the land of the Lilliputians, and she tries to break free but she cannot, and the scene changes and it is a baby Suzie cradled in her arms, Brittany right after she gave birth to Suzie, and Rachel, images of Rachel in her mind, holding Rachel in her arms, in bed, covered by a thin blanket, sunshine permeating through the blankets, Rachel in her arms, lying on the grass, in the park, laughing together, holding Rachel as they walk down the beach, sunset setting Rachel's skin on fire and then, Rachel lying before her and her beautiful, chocolate brown eyes, smiling at her, body naked but for a thin, translucent, silky material draped all over her and her hands are on her swollen belly and Santana can sense, can hear the beating of their unborn child's heart in her ear and then Rachel lifts the hands from her belly and her hands are suddenly bloody and she is covered in blood and she says, softly, "San..." and Santana screams wordlessly as she feels herself falling, falling into an endless abyss that turns into a whirlpool and she feels herself swept round and round into it and she slides further into oblivion...

She wakes up with a start, all sweaty and out-of-breath and panting and heart pounding wildly away in her chest, and she finds Rachel, still naked, blanket covering her from the waist down, half hovering above her, in the half-darkness, nudging her gently awake as she whispers, "Honey, wake up, it was just a dream…come back to me, San, come back to me…"

She blinks once, twice, slightly disoriented, but then she sees Rachel, and Rachel's naked body half-covering her and she sees the familiarity of their room, early morning shadows playing with shapes on the walls, their dresser, the cabinet, and the wild beating of her heart calms down and Rachel inches closer to her left shoulder and Santana's left arm tightens on her back as her right arm comes up to pull the blanket higher on Rachel's body. She feels Rachel's skin against her skin, warm, soothing, and a spark of desire starts to burn in her. She leans over, kisses Rachel's head, forehead and seeks Rachel's lips. Rachel shifts and she feels warm breath against her cheek before Rachel's lips connect with hers. Rachel's hand instinctively comes up to hold Santana's cheek. They are silent for a few moments, before Rachel pulls back and whispers, "Are you okay?"

Santana nods.

Rachel buries her face in Santana's neck, inhales Santana's scent, as she mumbles, "You were kind of making small noises and you woke me up because you were moving around so much…"

"Sorry," Santana mumbles, her left hand rubbing Rachel's shoulder.

"No, it's okay," Rachel whispers back.

They are silent for a few seconds, and Santana thinks Rachel has already gone back to sleep but then Rachel clears her throat and says, "You're freaking out."

Rachel says it as a statement, says it quietly, with certainty. There is a silence that punctuates her statement. Santana does not know what to say. She doesn't know what to say, so she says, "What? What are you talking about?"

Rachel looks at her with this sadness in her eyes that breaks Santana's heart then Rachel looks down at her stomach and says, "This. Us. The baby. You're freaking out, aren't you?"

Santana does not speak. She knows she should have said something then. She knows she should have said what she needed to say, that she was scared and she wasn't sure and she didn't want to lose Rachel because she already lost Brittany and she can't fucking go through that again like that time when Rachel told her she was sick and she thought it was cancer and she doesn't know if she's ready…But there are a million other things going through her mind and Rachel is looking at her with those incredibly soft eyes, looking at her with such understanding and trust and _love_, and how could Santana say anything after that? So instead, she says, "No, I'm not."

Rachel lifts her head, looks at Santana. "You sure?"

Rachel looks at Santana so intently that Santana wishes she should have already told her what she really felt about the whole pregnancy deal. She should have told her then and there, but Santana swallows and nods her head. "Yes."

Rachel looks up at her and grins. "Good." She lifts her head and starts to kiss Santana, arms traveling up and down Santana's body. "Because I don't know if it's my hormones or something but I'm feeling incredibly turned on right now…"

Santana grins into the kiss Rachel gives her and mumbles, "Baby, in case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of hot, so maybe it's not your hormones…"

When Rachel just smirks and scoots down to start kissing Santana's neck, chest and breasts and Santana closes her eyes, moans in appreciation and pleasure before she says, "Not that I'm complaining if it _is_ your hormones…"

Rachel stops and when the kissing does not resume, Santana mumbles, "Baby, less teasing, more pleasing…"

When Rachel does not say anything but instead moves up and over Santana and drawers are opened and closed, Santana's eyes fly open and she says, "Seriously, baby? What the hell are you doing?"

Santana's gaze falls on Rachel, grinning, straddling Santana's lap and Santana's hand goes up to hold and steady her wife, the other hand holding and rubbing Rachel's hip. What catches her attention though is the object that Rachel is holding up and brandishing in her right hand.

A slow half-smile, half-smirk starts to spread on Santana's face. "It's been a while."

"Oh, it's been more than that," Rachel says, giving Santana a more seductive smile.

Santana's smile drops. "I'm sorry about that, baby. I know I've been working a lot lately." And of course Santana knows throwing herself in her work is her way of coping with all this.

Rachel shakes her head, understanding and love on her face. "It's fine, honey. I've been busy, too." They grow silent for a few moments, before Rachel says, "Besides, you can make it up to me now. I want you in this, and only this as quickly as possible."

The smile comes back on Santana's face and she takes the strap-on Rachel hands her with a smile and she puts it on in record time. Minutes later, Rachel is looking at her with a satisfied smile on her face.

"I _never_ get tired of putting this on," Santana comments now as Rachel climbs back on her lap and straddles her. Santana looks up at her now and asks, "So, who are we supposed to be this time?"

"Well, remember that one time when you took me in the bushes?" Rachel asks, with a mischievous glint in her eye and a sexy smile on her face.

Santana knits her eyebrows now. "When I took you in the bushes? I don't remember taking you in the bushes, babe."

Rachel laughs softly, moving up and over as Santana puts both her hands on Rachel's hips and pulls her slowly towards herself. Rachel is straddling Santana now, thighs on either side of Santana, gloriously naked as Santana's gaze falls on all the curves on Rachel's body, hands suddenly unable to resist touching Rachel's skin. Rachel tilts her head, leans over and kisses Santana tenderly, tongue swiping between Santana's lips, sending a jolt shooting through her, reminding Santana's body what she has been missing. Rachel's hands are everywhere, fingers brushing against Santana's face, shoulders, chest, arms like she has just discovered Santana's skin and can't get enough of it. It never ceases to amaze Santana how she and Rachel just…_fit_. And when they make love, it's like doing something they were both born for, and everything else that came before was just a rehearsal and it's like they know the lines, the story, where to touch each other, where to kiss, as if on instinct, as if they were _destined_ for this, to _be_ with each other. Santana is also exceedingly aware of Rachel's warmth and slick wetness on her thighs as Rachel slowly grinds herself against Santana's thighs. Santana runs her hand on Rachel's thighs, smooth and beautiful and all hers. Santana flushes, realizing it really doesn't take a lot to turn her on where her wife is concerned. Rachel pulls back and smiles.

"Try harder," Rachel whispers now.

Santana pretends to think harder as Rachel kisses her again, then her lips move to Santana's neck, then to her throat, her breath warm on Santana's skin as she moves her lips down to Santana's breast and kisses her nipples. "I…can't really think straight with you kissing me like that," Santana whispers, between a soft moan that comes deep from her throat and the desire and arousal that begins to churn inside her as Rachel kisses her breast.

Rachel chuckles. "Never mind. Less talking, more pleasing," Rachel whispers now as she lifts her head and kisses Santana on the lips again.

Santana nods as she tugs at Rachel and Rachel slides up and over and as she lowers herself onto the strap on, Santana thrusts herself up towards Rachel, Santana bracing herself on the bed with one hand, the other hand coming up to hold Rachel by the small of her back. Rachel holds onto Santana's neck with both hands, her fingernails brushing up and down Santana's neck slowly, as she meets her wife in a soft kiss and they begin to slowly rock into each other, Rachel putting her arms around Santana as she matches each thrust of Santana's hips against her. Santana looks at Rachel, mesmerized, hypnotized, _amazed_ as Rachel closes her eyes, bites her lower lip, moves her body in sync to Santana's, body graceful, _beautiful_ and Rachel starts to moan in pleasure and Santana leans over and catches Rachel's lips in a long, deep kiss before her lips and tongue move to Rachel's jaw, then her throat, kissing the scar in the middle of her throat, before she moves down to the middle of her chest, and kisses and sucks on her breasts, tongue flicking out and slithering and licking Rachel's nipples, and Rachel makes this even deeper moan of pleasure and she arches her back and she starts to move more desperately against Santana and Santana pulls Rachel closer into a tighter hug and holding her close, she gently pushes Rachel back on the bed, so that Rachel is lying down on the bed, and she is between Rachel's thighs and she continues to push and pull inside Rachel, as Rachel moans and groans and clings to Santana tightly, wrapping her legs around Santana as her hips continue to rock against Santana's body. Santana's left hand slides down to the slick heat between Rachel's legs and Rachel catches her breath, mouth shaped in an 'O', as Santana's fingers probe and rub and press beneath the wet folds and Rachel's breathing grows rugged and she starts to pant as she buries herself in Santana's neck. As Rachel's body begins to lose control and shake uncontrollably in Santana's arms, Rachel manages to stop and lift her head and kiss Santana and murmur, breathlessly, over and over and over again, "I love you", to Santana and Santana swallows and says it back, and knows, with certainty and conviction, that there is nothing truer than these three simple words. It is the one truth, she knows, that she can hold on to. The truth that she hopes can help her triumph over her fears and doubts. And in the midst of all that she might be feeling, it is the one, unequivocal, irrevocable truth she knows will prevail…

* * *

_**Author's end notes:**_

_**That's it for this chapter! Thanks for reading this chapter!**_

_**Your kind reviews are always welcome and in fact would be much appreciated. Your reading and reviewing and favoriting these and the other stories that came before it really does wonders to me and my beta, so thank you for that! ;) Also, points for you if you get the Glee references here! Hahaha! :) Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Because I had so much fun writing it!**_

_**Many thanks, by the way, to my beta, DragonsWillFly for going over this chapter as always, despite your crazy work schedule!**_

_**On a related note, many thanks for the positive response to the last chapter! **_

_**Now on to your comments -**_

_**To bebelzinha, w1cked, Joselely - Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing the last chapter! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! Cheers!**_

_**To iWasAlover - Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope this chapter answers your question. And hope you enyoyed the new chapter as well.**_

_**To pictureofsuccess - Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing and sticking with this verse! Much appreciate it. Glad I got you hooked! Yes, I do try to balance the fluff with real world drama. As for Suzie, glad you enjoy her. Of course Rachel and Santana would have an incredible and insane (incredibly insane?) spawn! Hahah! :) Hope you enjoyed this new chapter too! Cheers!**_

_**To kutee - Hey! You're welcome! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Yes, I am continuing this verse because I'd already storyboarded for this one, and it makes more sense, creativity-wise to continue the story, although I have ideas for other stories, too, that's just waiting to be unleashed! As for Suzie and Kate - haha! Yes, the possibilities are interesting, no? Glad you enjoyed the Suzie and San scene and Rachel's cravings and glad you loved the names for the show! Because seriously a "The Craft" and "Lost Boys" TV spin-off would be so cool and a "Sopranos" (The Teen Years) would be hilarious! :) Yes, it was "Pushing Daisies" and "Raising Hope"! As you may have already known, I love "Raising Hope", I think there's something sweet and genuine and funny and earnest about it that kind of reminds me of how TV shows were used to be made. Anyway, hope you like this new chapter!**_

_**To parker88 - Hey! Thanks for reading Chapter 1 of Opus and True Delights! Yes, without DragonsWillFly to encourage me, I don't think I could have finished it as quickly as I did, only because I do kind of ask myself, "Is this any good? Is it ridiculous? Does this make sense?" And my beta would be like, "Dude, Glee doesn't make sense! Compared to that, yours make sense!" And I'd be like, oh, yeah! Haha! Glad you enjoyed chapter 1 of Opus and seeing Pezberry and Suzie again. As for Santana letting Suzie drink at home, yes, I kind of imagine Santana being like that, seeing as she had her own drinking adventures when she was young, too! Yes, I do try to balance the real dramas of a relationship, thank you. Aaww, and I'm one of your favorite writers? Thanks. :) That means a lot to me and my beta. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this new chapter!**_

_**To kickangel - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Glad you are excited for this new story. As for your concerns on Suzie and Kate and possible new love interests for Suzie (?), and Santana and Rachel being busy and holding things in, well, you know you'd have to stick with the story and see how it goes. :) Yes, real life can be messy, complicated and scary, but don't be stressed. :-) As for "Pitch Perfect", oh god, I'm so obsessed with this movie right now and have been listening to the soundtrack non-stop! For anyone who's sat through the awfulness that is three seasons of Glee, "Pitch Perfect" was a breath of fresh air! It got a lot of the stuff about Glee Clubs so much more than four seasons of Glee ever will! I loved the music, the choreography, the characters, the humor! And it reminded me so much of the excitement I once felt when I first saw the first season of Glee! Anyway, hope you like this chapter, too!**_

_**Songs featured in this chapter:**_

_**"You Gotta Fight For Your Right (To Party)" by the Beastie Boys**_

_**"Party in the U.S.A."**_

_**"Give Me Everything" by Pitbull**_

_**"Hit Me With Your Best Shot" by Pat Benatar**_

_**"Don't Cry for Me Argentina" from the musical "Evita"**_

_**"Isn't She Lovely" by Stevie Wonder**_

_**"I'll Stand by You" by the Pretenders**_

_**"You're Having My Baby"**_

_**"Ben" by the Jackson Five**_

_**"Mickey"**_


	3. Fever Dreams and Baby Madness (Part 2)

**_Author's note: Dear readers! Chapter 3 is here! Kind reviews are welcome and will be much appreciated. _****_Happy reading! _**Hope you enjoy! Cheers!

* * *

Rachel had never actually imagined she would someday be married again, have a family and be pregnant. She had never even imagined she would have that life with Santana Lopez, the bitchy, snarky cheerleader she knew from high school who secretly loved show choir and Glee and with whom she had endlessly bickered with and argued with in high school. She had never imagined that once she let go of the preconceived notions she had, of all the things she thought could make her happy, the fame, the money, the adulation, the attention, the awards, the respect - things she no longer valued as much as she did when she was younger, once she realized all of that wasn't really what she wanted after all, and once she opened her mind and heart to new possibilities and new experiences, a relationship with Santana, for example, she found she could actually have that elusive happiness and peace and completeness others can only dream about. It is a fact that is sometimes difficult to explain to their friends even now, this singular happiness she feels with Santana, eight years after they had started dating.

Everyone of their friends had actually thought they weren't even going to last, and most of them thought Santana and Rachel would break up after a few months, or even weeks, declaring that long distance relationships rarely worked, the age-old truism "opposites attract" was a lie and they were just too different from each other, career-wise, values-wise and personality-wise to actually mesh well. In fact, most of them thought Rachel and Santana would actually probably end up killing each other and they waited for the time when Rachel and Santana would announce that they had finally broken up.

Rachel and Santana's old high school friends, Quinn, Kurt, Mike, Tina and Mercedes were all either confused, suspicious, disapproving, critical, incredulous, on the fence and in some cases, flat out laughing when they found out the two people who couldn't stand each other in high school had started dating.

Most of their friends, Mercedes, Mike, Tina and Sam, lived in California, and thus, had found out about their relationship one way or another, thanks to technology, internet, social networking sites that made communication and the spreading of gossip much faster, although they found out about the relationship much, much later. Quinn, who lived in Ohio, and Kurt, who lived in the same city as Rachel, had found out, of course, the old-fashioned way.

Mercedes, Mike and Tina had all been incredulous but more neutral and careful. They had never been much for meddling in the lives of the others, except when a much-needed intervention was needed, as when Mercedes had developed a crush on Kurt or when Mercedes had struggled with an eating disorder or when the Finn-Quinn baby drama was proving too much to handle.

These reactions were almost always accompanied with the statements, "But you _hate_ each other", "But all you guys ever did in high school was bicker and _argue_", "But we spent most of our high school life trying to restrain Santana from _attacking_ you as she angrily spoke in bad Spanish and you _cowered_ in fear in one corner!" "But Santana didn't even _like_ you in high school. Didn't she say she only _pretended_ to like you?" "Wasn't she always on you because of your nose? Your clothes? Pretty much everything about you?" "Didn't she encourage you to _move_ to Israel?" "Isn't she like top dog and you're a geek? So what would you guys even _talk_ about?" The common comment that everyone had about Rachel's new romantic relationship with Santana seemed to be, "We…didn't even know you were gay." One or two thought it was just a phase she was going through, something she needed to get out of her system. This was the reason it also took her twice as long to tell her overprotective fathers, who, predictably, were skeptical and critical, of the relationship their only child had ventured into.

Mercedes, for one, had thrown back her head and laughed, when it had been mentioned to her that Rachel and Santana were dating. When she had actually been able to talk to Rachel, finally, one day she had run into her, Mercedes had said, "Girl, don't get me wrong, Santana's kind of my friend and everything and we were sort of tight senior year in high school but…you could _not_ have picked a stranger choice for a partner…I mean, girl, this is Santana Lopez we're talking about…and um…you're gay?"

Tina and Mike were on the fence at best and Mike had said it best for both of them when he said, "I'm not sure about this, dude. It feels surreal somehow. But you swing both ways? Wow. I was _not_ expecting that."

Kurt had been the most vocal opposition to their relationship when he finally found out why she was going to California so much. He had been annoyed she had kept it from him and that she had lied about those auditions and shoots she was doing in California. The truth of the matter was it just so happened that before her throat surgery scare, she _was_ doing auditions and shoots in California, her agent, McPherson, was just that good, but, Santana and Suzie had also just so conveniently lived around the area and she was never one _not_ to take advantage of and _maximize_ such a situation in order to spend more time with Santana and Suzie. Truthfully, she had started to enjoy spending time with Santana and completely adored Suzie. Spending time with Santana, talking to her, just being with her, had reminded Rachel why she'd felt attracted to her enough to sleep with her once so many years ago - Santana, once you got to know her, is this really intelligent, articulate, thoughtful, incredibly sexy and beautiful woman, who fascinated Rachel to no end. She had grown up so much since high school and when she got married and had a child and lost Brittany. Rachel had even started to find a lot of things about Santana irresistible - Santana's beautiful, husky gold voice, the way she kissed Rachel, her lips tender flame on Rachel's, the amusing way the lovely arc of her eyebrows arched when she thinks Rachel or Suzie are scheming behind her back, even the way she rolled her eyes at them when they would gang up on Santana and rally for more vegetarian dishes in the household or more interesting TV viewing choices. Rachel had been surprised and confused that she would find it such a joy and a pleasure to be with Santana and had looked forward to those times when she was in California, because the highlight of any visit she had in California was being able to be with Santana. When Santana, with Suzie in tow, had started showing up on Rachel's Upper East Side apartment, all feeling shy and awkward and mumbling something about missing Rachel and saying "And if you tell anyone that I'll deny it", Rachel had started feeling something else at the pit of her stomach, something like a million butterflies taking flight, smothering her suddenly wildly beating heart as she stood there staring at Santana, speechless, whilst Suzie whined and sulked and complained about being sleepy and tired and hungry.

When Kurt had finally found out, he had been censorious, immediately launching into a long rant on why dating Santana was a bad idea, and why she should break up with Santana as soon as possible.

"You _can't_ be serious?!" Kurt had said, incredulous, over cocktails in some apparently new, hot and happening club in Manhattan, that was really, at most, overpriced and pompous. Kurt loved his overrated Manhattan clubs. It made him feel a little like Carrie Bradshaw, a fact that had never been lost to Rachel. Now he looked at Rachel with something akin to exasperation and irritation. "Santana Lopez? Santana _Lopez_? _Santana_ Lopez?"

Rachel had calmly sipped her non-alcoholic drink, crossed her legs, leaned back, smiled and nodded patiently, amused, as Kurt said Santana's name in as many ways as he could.

"You have _got_ to be _kidding_ me," Kurt had said, voice going shrill and high.

Rachel just rolled her eyes and had taken another sip of her drink.

Kurt had taken a sip of his Manhattan, daintily swallowed, and said, "She's bitchy, she's snarky, she's not nice, she's mean, she bullied people in high school, including _me_," Kurt had said.

Rachel had knitted her eyebrows and smiled. "I'm pretty sure those all mean the same thing."

"And she's also volatile and self-obsessed and self-centered, selfish and _arrogant_," Kurt says.

Rachel smiles. "You kind of just described us, too, with that. Well, you described high school me, anyway."

Kurt rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Rachel, she's not exactly the best of lovers," Kurt had said. "Seriously. She's about as loyal and trustworthy and faithful as…as…" Kurt pauses to think of a good example, but finding none, he says, "She's just not loyal and trustworthy and faithful…!"

As Rachel continues to roll her eyes, Kurt had said, "Need I remind you about the fact that she doesn't exactly think dating equals relationship and commitment? She told us once that sex is not dating?"

"What are you talking about?"

Kurt looks at her impatiently and says, "That time, just before Sectionals, the first time we were about to compete, Brittany kind of slipped and said they were, well, hooking up, but Santana'd also been hooking up with Puck and she'd already slept with Finn and well, she and Brittany kind of made out with everyone in McKinley except you. And maybe Mercedes. And Tina."

Rachel asks, "What?"

"Yes. Didn't you hear about that?"

Rachel had thought about it and had vaguely remembered that during those first Sectionals, she wasn't exactly friends with anyone in New Directions and in between trying to snag Finn away from the very pregnant Quinn and planning the set lists and scheming about how to get the solos, was just too busy to pay any attention to anything that was happening outside that. Santana had just been the bitchy, snarky, arrogant, overly confident but _really_ attractive Cheerio with nice thighs and bone structure who disliked Rachel and bickered with her and used to follow Quinn around and had always seemed attached to the hip to Brittany. Frankly, Rachel thought the Cheerios were this scary but really popular and influential little harem at the top of the McKinley popularity food chain that went around school terrorizing the geeks and nerds. So, no she hadn't heard of any of it. Of all the things that she had heard, the scheming from the other Glee kids to lock her up in Kurt's basement during Sectionals so she wouldn't tell Finn who the real father of Quinn's baby was, to not telling her for a full year who had taken Finn's virginity, to the many other things that the others schemed about before they all slowly became friends, this was the one thing she had missed. Knowing Santana though, she knew without a doubt that Santana would have said something like that, like she already knew that there was something deeper between Santana and Brittany, especially since the year after that, judging from the intense, angst-y, serious singing to the Dixie Chicks' cover version of "Landslide" and how sensitive Santana had been to Rachel's description of it as vaguely Sapphic. They'd never actually struck up a friendship so Rachel barely knew Santana except as the girl who always stood or danced beside her during performances and the girl she had a Whitney Houston duet with senior year. That was why she had given her that senior photo of hers for Santana to remember her by.

"Seriously, you _have_ to break up with her, like, right _now_," Kurt had demanded then, agitated and impatient. "I mean, where exactly is this going? Are you going to settle down, get married, have babies or what? Because knowing Santana, I'm kind of guessing you guys won't get there anytime soon. Or maybe never. And what, will you be shuffling back and forth between California and New York forever? What?"

Rachel had been surprised by what Kurt had said, unable to say anything back, because if truth be told, she hadn't even thought about where her relationship with Santana really was going. They hadn't talked about it, having agreed to take it slow, since Rachel was in the middle of divorce proceedings and Santana was slowly but surely recovering from Brittany's death. But that time, Kurt had made Rachel think about where her relationship with Santana is going.

And so when a few minutes had passed and the gaping silence grows and grows between them, uncomfortable and awkward, Kurt says, "I'm sorry, Rachel, I just want what's best for you…I don't want you getting hurt. I mean this is Santana Lopez we're talking about, Queen of Mean and what-not. Besides, I don't think Santana's the kind of person who's going to let you have your way. She likes to win arguments, likes to dominate relationships, you guys will totally not work out. I'm just looking out for you. I just want you to be happy."

Rachel had nodded then, feeling the doubts begin to form as she finishes her drink. "I know, Kurt. I know." What she couldn't say though was the fact that despite her own doubts and fears, now stoked even more by Kurt's revelations, she had wanted to tell him that Santana did make her happy, _does _make her happy.

Before the night ends, Kurt comments, "And you're really gay now?" When Rachel only silently nods, he says, "For serious? Huh. How could I have missed _that?_"

Quinn's reaction had been the same as well, except initially bitchier and snarkier, complete with eye rolls, an eyebrow raised, and her saying, "You're kidding me right?" Quinn, who had stayed in touch with Brittany and Santana and had, over the years, become Santana's best friend, the one person Santana goes to, to bounce ideas with or talk to for problems. Though Rachel had once taken issue with the fact that Santana would rather go to Quinn than talk to Rachel, especially when it came to their own relationship problems, Rachel had eventually come to accept this and although the jealousy reared its ugly head once in a while, it was innocuous and not at all problematic.

The couple had run into Quinn at an annual food and wine festival in Napa that Rachel had dragged a sulky Santana to. Quinn had been in California, on some national conference or other, and had wanted to check out the festival herself, having found an interest in food and wine and the restaurant business. Quinn had spotted Santana and Rachel in one corner of the winery, giggling, holding hands, Santana whispering to Rachel what she thought the other people, mostly wine connoisseurs, critics and guests like themselves, were talking about. Santana had been in the middle of making fun of a tall, skinny wine critic with an enormous elongated nose and nostrils, who went around with his chin up, looking all snooty and snobby. Santana had leaned over to Rachel, and said, "That guy's nose is big…huge…_massive_…I swear he could probably smell the flowers…in Argentina". Rachel had thrown back her head and laughed at Santana's comment, and Santana had grinned and said, "And look at those ears…god, they're _enormous_. I bet you can get HBO and Cinemax with that!" Rachel had laughed harder at that, shaking her head at Santana as her hand comes up to tuck a stray strand of Santana's dark hair behind her ear before she touches Santana's cheek, and that was how Quinn had noticed both of them, huddled in one corner, all wrapped up in their own little world. Quinn had come up to them, puzzled and confused that both women would actually be laughing and looking all comfortable and even vaguely _intimate_ with each other, and in the same room no less. Acting like they're getting along and actually having _fun_. Quinn had taken them by surprise, resulting in both Rachel and Santana blushing and looking all awkward and uncomfortable and speechless as Quinn demanded to know what the hell the two of them were doing together at an annual food and wine festival in Napa. As Quinn continued to stare at them, the slow realization dawned on her - just from how Santana and Rachel looked or subtly touched each other and how they behaved around each other, seconds before, all giggly and happy and _smitten _like a couple of infatuated teenagers at camp - that they were _together_, in every sense of the word, and all that it implied. Santana hadn't known how to answer then, and Rachel had then realized that Santana had not told her best friend yet about them. Rachel had felt a trifling sadness then, and maybe a little hurt, that Santana had not had the courage to tell her best friend yet that they were dating. And so Rachel hadn't known what to say as well, and after the initial awkwardness and Santana uncomfortably telling Quinn she was there with Rachel and it was nice seeing her and they'll catch up soon, they had both extricated themselves from Quinn's judgmental eyes.

Quinn had been suspicious, skeptical and not very subtle with hiding her dislike for Rachel once Santana finally came out and told her she was, indeed, dating Rachel Berry. There would be a few more awkward moments between the three, when Quinn came for a visit, or when they all found themselves back in Lima for the holidays, with Quinn cold and aloof and downright hostile towards Rachel. Once, during a chance meeting at the Lima Bean, in Lima, Quinn had cornered Rachel and amidst all the steaming cups of coffee and noise and laughter and conversation, she confronted Rachel. Quinn could not have picked a better place to confront her. Nor picked a better time, with Rachel all alone and nowhere else to go.

The conversation with Quinn had been akin to coming out as a lesbian, which it kind of was, especially for Rachel, who, though she'd dated a couple of women before Santana, hadn't really thought much of it. She did grow up with two gay dads, their house was like the hotbed of gay activity for as long as she could remember, it hadn't been a big deal for her, but she was still quite surprised at the many different reactions she would get from her high school friends. The few NYADA people she'd kept in touch with and people she'd worked with in theater, in the movies and on television, didn't really care about her sexuality, probably because theater and Hollywood have been gay since forever and despite the many people who would make an issue out of it, most people were cool with it and actually never made a big deal out of it.

Once it had been made clear to the equally incredulous, skeptical Quinn that Rachel was in fact dating Quinn's best friend, Quinn had said, in trademark Quinn fashion, one eyebrow raised, tone haughty and skeptical, "So you're trying out lesbianism for size now, Rachel?"

Rachel had swallowed, taken a quick sip of her coffee, feeling the hot liquid scald her tongue, shaken her head vigorously from left to right and nervously said, "No…no…you've got it all wrong…"

"Is this some stupid research you're doing for some movie or play or whatever?" Quinn had demanded.

"No…no…" Rachel says. She could have melted at the way Quinn had been staring at her with her cold, cold, eyes.

"Because my best friend is not some stupid jackass guy you're dating that you can discard like those hideous animal sweaters and knee socks you used to wear in high school…"

"Okay, first of all, how dare you insult my animal sweaters and knee socks…"

"And toying with someone's feelings is not funny, Rachel. Experimenting with gayness is all well and good, but not with somebody like my best friend, Rachel. Because if you are, Rachel, I will break your nose and make sure you'll never sing again."

"I wouldn't…" Rachel says now, swallowing. She whispers, voice trailing off at the end, "I wouldn't do that…"

Quinn had stared at Rachel for the longest time, making Rachel blush profusely. Then Quinn nods, still skeptical and says, "You know what? Fine. But if you hurt my best friend, I am going to slap you so hard your nose will come out at the back of your head."

Rachel had been all but relieved that she had escaped that conversation unscathed. It would take a while for Quinn to warm up and get used to having Rachel and Santana as a couple but it eventually came.

It had been Sam, actually, who had been the most supportive, the most positive about their relationship when he found out, a little later, that they were dating. He had been the only one who pointed out how perfect they actually are for each other. And Sam, bless his soul, had been the first one always to rush to the defense of the couple when the others voiced their skepticism over Santana and Rachel's relationship ever getting past year one.

Sam had once told this to Rachel when he'd accidentally found out the two had been kind of discreetly dating and the couple were dividing their time between California and New York. Sam had been trying to get in touch with Santana ever since he had found out Brittany had fallen ill and passed on, but Santana had refused to keep in touch with anyone from high school or college, and had preferred to throw herself into her work and raising Suzie, after Brittany had passed away. But Sam had patiently left her messages, emails, texts and phone calls that were more often than not unanswered until one day, she had started replying to them. Incidentally, Santana had started replying to those messages at about the same time she had started dating Rachel, although the going out for coffee or the actual hanging out with Sam and their other friends would happen slowly and would take time.

It was during one of these times when Rachel had been visiting Santana and Suzie in California and she'd just gotten off the airplane and had been making her way through LAX, on her way to a waiting Santana outside the airport when she'd run into Sam. Or, rather, happened to notice a tall, blond man who had been going a few times through the metal detector and had been attracting a bit of attention because the other passengers wanted to get through as well. One of the airport personnel was busy running the metal detector on the man's crotch, with the detector making that loud alarm sound that signaled to everyone within distance that the man had something in his crotch. When she'd gotten closer, she had at first thought it was a trick of the eyes, that it was somebody else but Sam Evans, resident McKinley geek, jock and former Glee Club member, as red, as uncomfortable and as awkward as the man with the detector is, before he suddenly puts his hand inside his jeans, rummages inside and pulls out a ring that makes everyone take a step back and wince.

After a shocked silence, the shocked airport personnel, swallows and asks, "How did that even get there? And how did that get past security in the first place?"

"Sorry, I took it off before the flight, I was bored during the flight, and I put it back on and forgot to take it off," Sam says sheepishly. When the airport personnel just stare at him, he smiles sheepishly and explains, quite lamely, that it was a cock ring, and his friend told him it was supposed to improve his sexual prowess. After much discussion, they let him go, to his relief and to the suppressed laughter and snickers behind his back.

Rachel had been standing, jaw open, as speechless as the others when Sam had done what he had done, but then recovers enough when Sam spots her at about the same time, and he had come to her with that trademark wide grin on his face and his hands extended towards her, to shake her hands or to hug her, she hadn't bothered to find out, refusing to shake his hands as he stood grinning there, oblivious, absolutely delighted to see a familiar face from high school. And that was how Rachel had found herself having coffee with Sam Evans those many years ago. As it had turned out, Santana had been running late, what with work and picking up Suzie and Rachel had some time to kill and she could hang out with him for a while whilst waiting for Santana to pick her up and at first Sam had wondered why Santana, of all people, would pick Rachel up and _that_ was how Sam had found out they were dating. When Santana comes a little while later, with Suzie, to pick Rachel up, Sam greets Santana and Suzie warmly, obviously very happy for Santana and Rachel.

Once they'd ordered their drinks (strong coffee for Sam, he'd explained he had pulled an all-nighter playing Mass Effect and tea for Rachel) from the overpriced coffee shop at LAX, Sam doesn't waste time stating, "Well, dude, I don't know how the two people who hated each other in high school finally decided to get together, but, I am so onboard this relationship! You guys are actually perfect for each other!"

Rachel remembers smiling at Sam then, relieved that at least one person approved of their relationship. She also remembers asking Sam why he thought they were perfect for each other.

Sam stares at her like this should be so obvious to her then, and then, starts to tick off the many reasons they are perfect for each other on his fingers. "Dude, why wouldn't you want to date Santana? She's hot. You're hot. She's sexy. You're sexy. Together, you're kind of…double hot _and_ sexy. You wouldn't have those vaguely Eurasian kids you've always wanted, but you could have really pretty looking Hispanic-African-American-Caucasian kids with her if you want to."

Rachel remembers grinning at him and saying, "Okay…"

And then Sam says, "And if you don't want those, well, Santana comes equipped with a daughter you can raise as your own…!"

Rachel raises her eyebrows and comments, slightly sarcastically, "That's pretty compelling logic…"

"And besides, don't you have a thing for bad ass people? I mean, except for Finn. He's just…not the kind of guy you should be dating after high school. I actually think you were too good for him, you know? So anyway, well, Santana's a bad ass…" Sam says. "Oh! Oh! You're Jewish, she's Hispanic and African American and Irish…?"

"I don't get what that has to do with anything…" Rachel begins.

Sam says, "Well, your people were oppressed and _all_ of her people were oppressed. You can totally compare notes about those things."

Rachel smiles uncertainly. "I'm not sure I'm following any of your logic, but okay."

Sam grins some more as he says, "Also, Santana's kind of high maintenance like you are, and since I heard you have a thing for people with excellent dental hygiene, doesn't Santana have excellent dental hygiene 'cause her dad's like this cool doctor with a killer health care plan for her?" When she doesn't say anything, Sam grins and says, "I heard you had a thing for Mr. Schue because he had excellent dental hygiene or something. Plus Santana's healthy and well-rounded and you know, immune to mono so that works in your favor, too! And since Santana's kind of driven and ambitious and ruthless, and you're kind of driven and ambitious, I think you'll kind of challenge each other. And you guys are really smart and clever and stuff. Plus, since she's always wanted to be a star, I don't think she'll have any problem dating somebody who is a star. And, oh, oh! You like to sign your name with those crazy gold stars and she's a gold star lesbian, so!"

Looking at Sam then, Rachel could have hugged Sam, even though all the things he had listed defied logic but strangely made sense. And this is why no matter how crazy Sam can get, Sam will always be hers and Santana's friend. That day, she smiles in relief at him and says, warmly, "Thanks."

"You're welcome!" Sam replies, with a grin. Then he says, thoughtfully, rubbing the day old blonde stubble on his chin, "I think you'll actually be good for each other you know?"

This makes Rachel smile even more, but then he grins mischievously and says, "As long as you promise to let me watch you guys making out in front of me at least once…I'm good!"

Rachel had rolled her eyes at Sam then, but Sam only grins and Rachel realizes she has missed Sam. Sam, and Mike, were the only two guys in Glee who were actually nice. There was also Matt, but he'd disappeared in the middle of sophomore year and that was that. After Sam had sipped a substantial amount of coffee, he then asks excitedly, "So, how'd you guys get together? How'd you even find the time? You're in New York and she's in California and is there some kind of New York-California portal or something that you use or do you guys kind of beam each other up or something? Tell me _everything!_"

Rachel had looked at his excited, eager, smiling face, boyish and handsome even with the day-old beard he has and she says, smiling, "Wow, you just sounded exactly like Kurt and my girlfriends when I tell them how my date went!"

Sam laughs. "Come on, spare me no details. How'd you guys hook up? When did you start dating? What?"

Rachel smiles, shrugs and says, "There's really nothing to tell, Sam, we kind of just started dating. And here we are."

After much probing and Rachel still does not provide any details about how she and Santana had actually hooked up (if truth be told, they'd hooked up their college freshmen year, when she was in NYADA and Santana had been studying pre-law in Louisville, they'd lost touch and picked up where they left off many years later, the one thing both Rachel and Santana had consistently and adamantly refused to tell anyone) he changes tactics and instead asks, "So how long have you been dating? How do you guys even make it work? Is it serious?"

Rachel cannot help but laugh at the series of questions Sam had asked her and she answers, instead, "I…think it's too soon for that. We're kind of playing it by ear, you know? Taking it slow and stuff."

"How slow?" Sam persists. "Snail-like? Turtle-like? Or glacial?"

When Rachel continues to laugh, Sam says, "Because if I know Santana, taking it slow usually means second or third base at least."

Rachel struggles not to blush at Sam's question, because the reason they'd been taking it slow was because they had actually already rounded out all the bases the first time and didn't want to rush into anything as yet, like getting serious or moving in, what with Rachel's divorce and Santana still recovering from her loss. The physical intimacy though, had continued unabated, because, well, Rachel would never say this out loud to anyone, but that part of her relationship with Santana had always been amazing. _Always_. In fact, once they had all the shyness and awkwardness of reconnecting after all those years, were out of the way, they found that they could hardly go without it, the perk of having a long distance relationship those first three years being, spending all that time together locked in their bedroom catching up on the sex they have been missing when they had been apart. When Rachel does not answer, Sam keeps at it and asks, "So are you guys serious? With your relationship? You know, Imhotep-Anck-Su-Namun serious? Femshep-Liara serious? Dante-Beatrice serious?"

"What?" Rachel asks, confused.

"Or are you Frodo and Samwise serious? Or Captain Kirk-Mr. Spock serious? Or Anakin-Amidala serious?"

When Rachel only offers a shrug of her shoulders, smiles and says, "Sorry. You lost me at Imhotep…and Femshep and pretty much everything else you just said…"

Sam throws up his hands in exasperation, runs his hand on his blonde hair and declares, "You're hopeless, Rachel. Since when did you _not_ give everyone like, every single detail of your love life? It's common knowledge the Glee girls almost always get some kind of detailed account of your, well, dalliances with the guys…"

When Rachel only smiles enigmatically and shakes her head "No", Sam grins, leans back, and with both hands on his cup, says, "My, my, Rachel Berry _has_ grown up. Whatever happened to the fame-hungry, power-hungry, annoying Rachel Berry we all loved and loathed?" When Rachel glares at him mockingly, he says, "Just kidding." He smiles now and looks at her thoughtfully, making Rachel blush for real, and then he says, "Wow, Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez. Who'd have thunk it?"

Rachel, speechless, only nods and smiles herself.

Then Sam grins and says, "But you're vegan or vegetarian or something. I should have known. Isn't that just code for bi or lesbian?"

Rachel laughs as Sam continues, "And I can totally list all the relationships that started out much like the one you had, like when Han Solo first meets Princess Leia and they were always bickering and arguing with each other but then they eventually fall in love or when Mulan first met Li Shang Yu and they didn't like each other or when Yvane and Tristran first met in 'Stardust' and they hated each other but finally fell in love and stuff. Or you know, in 'Breakfast Club', when Judd Nelson first meets Molly Ringwald and they hate each other, but then the movie ends with them kind of falling in love. The list goes on and on." Sam then looks at Rachel warmly and says, "So, you and Santana? Actually makes sense."

Rachel smiles and says, "Again with the nerd references, Sam. You lost me at…Han Solo…"

Sam grins. Then Sam leans over and says, earnestly, "Okay. Santana's been through a lot. She deserves to be happy. _You_ deserve to be happy. You're happy, right? She makes you happy? She makes you laugh?"

Rachel smiles, thinks about it and realizes that, yes, Santana Lopez, strangely enough, _was_, _is_ making her happy. She finds herself nodding slowly at this slow realization to Sam's ever-widening smile.

"Good. You love her? She loves you?" Sam had asked her then. "Because that's all that matters."

The question had taken Rachel by surprise then, so much surprise it had struck her speechless. She takes a sip of her coffee, puts it down carefully on the table, is suddenly aware of how quiet the coffee shop is, save for the piped in, low jazz music that plays, and the people whispering, coffee cups and tea cups tinkling against teaspoons as liquids are stirred, the sound of coffee being brewed, a television playing news at low volume, the occasional scrape of chair against the floor, low, controlled laughter. The coffee shop is a virtual paradise in the hustle and bustle that is LAX and Rachel suddenly wishes she could be outside instead, getting lost in the flow of the sea of humanity coming through the airport, rather than inside this small island of quiet and peace, being asked, finally, if she loved Santana and if Santana loved her back. It had been the one question that she had tried to _not_ answer, the one question she had avoided, the one question she thought might go away of its accord if she just pushed it down her consciousness. But confronted with this question now, by a high school friend and she realizes, right when the question is asked, that she _does_ really love Santana Lopez. Really, really, love Santana Lopez. It had happened so slowly, so quietly, she hadn't even noticed it.

In fact, it had it started with the little things…

The thing was, despite all the things her, _their_ friends had listed, that Santana was this arrogant, domineering, bitchy, snarky, mean, self-obsessed, self-centered, selfish, hot-tempered girl who liked to win arguments and boss people around and make fun of people and say mean things about them, Santana the woman wasn't anything like that at all. Well, she was still a few of those things, as a lawyer, and she was slowly building a reputation for herself as a ruthless environmental and human rights lawyer, but at home, save for the absolute hell that she can be when she has PMS or stressed from work, Santana was a different woman altogether. Oh, sure, they still argued and bickered like they always did, like when Santana drinks from the milk carton, or when she forgets to put the cap back on the toothpaste, or squeezes it from the middle, or when she leaves all her clothes lying around, or has managed to have some mustard stain on her blouse that Rachel cannot get out, or when Rachel asks her to buy some tartar sauce on her way home but Santana forgets and it becomes yet another argument, but Santana also surprised her by being more considerate and kind and generous than she was before. When Rachel had once told her when they were getting ready for bed, that she was thinking of having a nose job, and maybe a bit of work done on her face (she had been in their bathroom staring at the mirror one time and had spotted, to her horror, the first ugly wrinkles on her face), Santana had made a face, knitted her eyebrows, and asked her, "Why? What for?"

"Santana, in case you haven't noticed I work in an industry where beauty and youth are _everything_," Rachel had said. "It's kind of important if I were to keep working, and kind of important to us, to adhere to that at all costs."

"Why?" Santana persists, gesturing with her arms that Rachel come nearer so she can hold her. Rachel had smiled inwardly at this unconscious gesture from Santana.

"Honey, I would imagine you'd be the last one to dissuade me from contemplating surgical enhancements on my face," Rachel had said then as she crawls over to Santana.

Santana engulfs her in a tight hug, inhales her scent, kisses her on the cheek and says, "_Because_…I like you fine this way. I like your cheekbones," and she kisses Rachel's cheekbones, "I like your forehead," and she kisses her on the forehead, "I like your cheeks," and she kisses her cheeks, before she kisses her nose and says, "I even like your freakishly large, very Jewish nose," which makes Rachel pout and sulk, putting out her lower lip and frowning at Santana. Santana only laughs as Rachel continues to sulk, so Santana says, "And you're sexy when you pout." Rachel only pouts even more so Santana stops, gazes at Rachel tenderly, leans over and kisses her on the lips for a long moment, before she pulls back and says, "And you already know I like _that_…I mean I don't know when exactly I started liking all of _that_, but you kind of grew on me, you know?"

"Yeah?" Rachel asks, smiling at Santana.

"Yeah, you're kind of like a wart that has grown on me that I want to remove but realize it's what defines me, you know?" Santana jokes.

Rachel hits her arm as Santana laughs. Then Santana stops and says, "Baby all these things…it's what makes you, _you_. And I like you that way. And of course…if you tell anyone that, I'll deny it."

Rachel couldn't help but laugh at that and she leans over and plants a kiss on Santana's lips. "You are _so_ going to get laid tonight."

Santana only grins before she says, "Don't I always? Now, your turn!"

"What?" Rachel had asked.

Santana shrugs and jokingly says, "Well, I just complimented you, now tell me I'm beautiful...Do I look beautiful?"

Rachel laughs as she leans back. She already knows Santana _is_ beautiful but she jokingly replies, "On the inside?"

Santana scowls mockingly and says, "Hey!"

Rachel squeals and giggles as Santana kisses her even more and pushes her back on the bed and as Santana reaches down to pull Rachel's pajama off of her, all other thoughts, of surgery, work, everything else, are wiped from Rachel's mind.

And then there were those moments when she had come home to Santana, all depressed and disappointed because she hadn't gotten the part in an audition for a popular television show or a big budget blockbuster movie and Santana had offered her a drink of water, made her dinner, patiently listened to her rant and rave about how sexist and racist and paternalistic Hollywood is, without offering any snarky, or bitchy comment. It was the offer of a glass of water that stuck with her at first. The first time it happened it had surprised her speechless. When she was young, and she was sad, or crying, her fathers would bring her a glass of water, and so to have Santana do that for her struck her as just bizarre because none of her boyfriends, or her husband, not Finn, not Puck, not Jesse, had ever done that for her. Then she had realized that Santana's fridge started having veggie meat and other kinds of vegetarian food, which Santana had professed to loathe but which, to her surprise, is in the said fridge, along with the soy milk, the specific kind of bread Rachel ate, fruits and vegetables, because Rachel had commented once about the sad state of their diet and their food supply, what with a growing child in the household. It had, like most things between Rachel and Santana those first few years, ended in an argument, with Santana saying Rachel is driving her crazy, but the next day, there was vegetarian food in the house. Santana didn't really cook, but she cooked basic food for her and Suzie, but she made more of an effort when they started going out. Rachel and Suzie had agreed though that Santana is the not the best cook in the world and whenever Rachel was in California, she was on kitchen duty. It was during one of those times, when Santana had come home early, with Suzie in tow, and they had all gathered in the kitchen as Rachel prepared dinner and Santana and Suzie were busy negotiating the terms and conditions of Suzie's school work (if Suzie aced all her subjects, she and Santana could go to New York, so she and Santana could be with Rachel for the summer, like Suzie wanted) and as Rachel leans by the kitchen sink, watching Santana and Suzie talk and argue as Santana tries to control her temper, pressing her hands against her temples, a tell-tale sign that she is about to get a headache, Rachel realizes then that she would want nothing more than to be here, in this moment, in a kitchen, in their kitchen, Santana's and hers, with Suzie, just spending a lazy early evening, spending some quality family time together. She thinks maybe it was probably this time when she realized she could fall in love with Santana. That maybe she probably already loves Santana.

And when she realizes this, she also realizes that if she already loves Santana, then she's probably a goner. She knew how she was when she fell in love with someone, how she gives her all to someone without thought for herself and she knew she would hurt herself in the process waiting for Santana to love her back. Rachel knew how much Brittany had meant to Santana and she already knew she could never take Brittany's place. It is harder, Kurt has pointed out, to compete with a dead person than it is to compete with somebody alive, and that was one of the reasons Kurt had been apprehensive about their relationship. But sometimes, lying there in Santana's arms, late at night, held so tightly it is as if Santana doesn't ever want to let her go, she thinks maybe Santana also cares for her, but that maybe allowing herself some measure of happiness after all that she has been through is not something that Santana would want to do, feeling it a betrayal somehow of that relationship she had once with Brittany. Maybe Santana wouldn't even let herself realize it, admit it or even say it out loud. It would, in fact, take Santana Lopez all of three years and Rachel moving to London to make her realize she is in love with Rachel Berry. And even though it had broken her heart then to have gone to London, hoping Santana could figure things out herself, she had gone anyway. There were a lot of things going on with her life as well, not the least of which was confronting herself with her own mortality. But Rachel was an eternal optimist, and had refused to give up on Santana and their relationship, a clear indication that she really did love Santana. Being an eternal optimist was something she had always been criticized by her friends for, but this time, it worked in her favor, because had she given up on Santana and their relationship, she would have missed out on a lot of things and she would never know what it was like to have been Santana's if she had given up right from the get-go.

So, Rachel had felt happiness at the realization and certainty that she loved Santana Lopez, and she felt some sadness then, the same sadness she would feel talking to Sam Evans that day at an overpriced LAX coffee shop and she only smiles, and says, "Like I said, Sam, I'm not sure we're there yet."

Sam nods before he says, "Oh, oh, I got it. You're not really sure if it's love or if you're in love with her or anything." He grins before he leans over, pulls out a magazine from his overnight bag and says, "Well, you're in luck. Picked up this Cosmopolitan magazine at this airport bookstore and I was just reading about the seven ways to tell if you're in love with someone."

Rachel is puzzled. "Why on earth do you have a Cosmopolitan magazine?"

Sam shakes his head, blushing and suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "It was either that or FHM. And I didn't want to seem like a sexist pig for having an FHM magazine, and I already had the latest Wired and PC magazine there, so! Plus they were out of Glamour Magazine, so! And I like Cosmo, it kind of gives you cool tips about how to please your man. I mean your woman. I mean…you know what I mean."

"No I don't. I really don't," Rachel says, with a smile. "Although Santana seems to secretly like those FHM magazines."

"Dude, why wouldn't she? FHM is awesome. _Anyway_," Sam says, trying to change the topic. He flips through pages of the magazine, and then, when he finds the right page, he says, "Let's see, here. It says here, you can tell you love someone if you're, one, invested in the his happiness, two, you want him or her to branch out, three, you're cool with his differences, four, you can admit your shortcomings, five, you can live with his, six, you're into all of him and seven, you could see yourself having his kids." He then looks up at Rachel and says, "So there! According to this article, if his or her happiness comes before yours, you don't mind him or her trying out new things or new careers, or you know, he's a bad kisser or bad in bed or he or she has a foot rash or fungus or herpes and you don't mind it and you can stand his or her taste in music, although knowing you guys, it's probably more Santana putting up with your Broadway show tunes obsession and if you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with him or her, or if you find yourself imagining what your kids would look like if you decide to do it the turkey baster way…then you must love her!"

* * *

Rachel had smiled then at Sam reading about how to tell whether one is in love with a person or not, but she remembers ticking of each one and realizing that she _did_ actually love Santana. And that love would only grow and grow and grow until she thinks she might explode with all the love she felt for Santana Lopez. The thing was, she didn't know exactly when she had fallen in love with Santana, but she knew she had loved Santana first, a running joke they had had for the longest time.

And now here she is, pregnant with her and Santana's baby, enjoying a bright, warm, summer day in July, as she heads to an outdoor café, to meet her wife and Kurt for some drinks and snacks. She puts her hand on the soft swell of her belly beneath her dress and smiles, remembering how it had been before and how much she and Santana had been through, thinking about how everyone, except Sam, had thought they weren't going to make it. Oh, how they have proven everyone wrong, she thinks, smiling to herself. A breeze blows and she brushes a stray wisp of hair away from her face and tucks it away from her face. She'd thought about cutting her hair to a functional short one but Santana had vehemently opposed it and now she is stuck tucking dark tendrils of her long, wavy hair behind her ear. She stops as the breeze plays with her dress, and continues on her way when the breeze lets up. She looks up and sees the coffee shop just around the corner. She enters the coffee shop and spots an empty table by the corner. She takes a seat and orders hot raspberry tea as she waits for Kurt and Santana.

She opens her iPad and goes through her emails and the latest draft of her email update she now regularly sends everyone ever since she found out she was pregnant. She opens the calendar on her iPad, the same one she has on her mobile phone, in Santana's laptop and her mobile phone, a print out of which she has tucked onto the small corkboard in Santana's office, where she had cleared a space so she can also keep office herself and one schedule tucked in the kitchen and their own bathroom. The calendar is full of useful things like the medical check-ups she needs to do, immunizations, food, even her due-date and other pregnancy checklists. There is actually so much to do: clothes to shop for, a baby room to decorate, books to read, classes to go to, videos to watch, so many other things to prepare for and sometimes she feels so overwhelmed by it but she thinks it's all a good thing. Plus there's still her high school portrait she wants above the crib in the baby's room to which Santana is vehemently opposed to.

She'd at first been nervous about being pregnant at such a late stage in life, but her OB-Gyne had told her as long as she kept herself healthy, kept to a schedule (diet, exercise, medical check-ups, immunizations, etc.) that she would follow strictly, she will be fine. She cannot really do anything about the frequent urination, fatigue, nausea, vomiting, excessive saliva production, nor her tender breasts, or her breasts growing two or three cup sizes full, a cause for celebration to Santana, food cravings and aversions, or her heightened sense of smell, making her too sensitive to such things as Santana's perfume (which she loathes now) and her natural scent (which Rachel loves). Lately, she has been experiencing heartburn and indigestion and she's been feeling bloated. Her doctor had assured her these were all normal, when she had gone to her in panic. Her OB-Gyne, Dr. Edna M. Weistheimer, had told her this was normal and that she should not worry, being pregnant was just like PMS on steroids. "And don't _vorry_, I know _zee_ libido has been low your first trimester, but _zee_ sex _vill_ pick up after _zee _first trimester, so expect a warm front to blow in _zee_ bedroom anytime soon, _yah_?" she had said this last part with a wink and a naughty grin, making Rachel blush. Dr. Westheimer is an old, no-nonsense, grey-haired, bespectacled woman with a large nose, a high, shrill voice, large, round glasses and a strange, slight German accent, hair cut to a severe, square above the shoulder with bangs that made her even more serious. She is at least a couple of inches or so shorter than Rachel, and greets her with "Dah-leeng, g_ooo_d mo_rr_ning, how _ahh_ you? How is your k_ee_d? How _ees_ _zee_ sex life? Where ees _zat_ _goh_-geous wife of you_hhss_? Everything _eez_ good, _yah_?"

True to Dr. Weistheimer's word, the sex, which had waned during the first trimester, had picked up during the second trimester, which, predictably Santana didn't have any complaints about and which she was more than happy to provide Rachel with.

The tender breasts, mood swings, nausea, food cravings, aversions, indigestion, constipation, heartburn, fatigue, frequent urination now included some spottings, back pains, lower abdominal achiness, occasional headaches, faintness, dizziness and the beginnings of veins appearing mostly on her legs. She had switched to an industrial strength moisturizer and a softer toothbrush as well since Dr. Weistheimer had said her skin would dry up more now because of the overproduction of hormones in her body and her mouth would be drier so her gums would now be more susceptible to gingivitis and other gum diseases. She struggled with the food cravings and aversions, and she loved Santana even more for making those late-night runs for pristinely glazed donuts, Baskin and Robbins, dumplings, octopus, pepperoni pizza and steak done rare (to her horror, she has realized she has developed a craving for meat and have developed an active aversion for veggie meat, also a cause for celebration for Santana). Santana is no stranger to a pregnant wife and her cravings, aversions, pains, achiness, mood swings, fatigue, nausea and all the other things a pregnancy brings, but Santana herself has declared that Rachel Berry pregnant is "A whole other experience altogether. A whole different ballgame altogether." In fact, she had jokingly but lovingly told Rachel, "Baby, you have turned pregnancy, into a career , science, an_ art form_." Rachel had rolled her eyes at that. Despite the cravings, Rachel tries as much as possible to have the balanced, fruits and vegetables diet that she has always adhered to for as long as she can remember. And since she has to go on a diet, then everyone else in the household has to diet, much to her wife and daughter's consternation.

Rachel obsessively keeps a journal since she found out she was pregnant, keeping note of the any and all bodily fluids she secretes (size, frequency, viscosity, color), the many physical changes her body is going through and the feelings she has about each and every change, as well as the reactions of the people, namely Santana, around her. Dr. Weistheimer had been the one to suggest it, and Rachel religiously kept it. Since it was her first and probably her last and only pregnancy, her doctor was also the one who suggested supplementary reading for her (obviously, "What To Expect When You're Expecting", "Not _zee _movie, _zee_ book, _yah_? I hate _zee_ damn movie, dammit!" Dr. Weistheimer had said, and some other books), suggested she start getting new pants or those belly belts or Bella bands, since those help with the morning sickness, a body pillow that will help with her sleeping, comfortable cotton bras without wires, immunization shots and vitamins. Her readings had suggested that she also check into the medical history of the family, hers, Santana's and the sperm donor's, to see if there are any genetic disorders that their unborn child might inherit, an activity that drove the Lopezes and the Berrys crazy as they wracked their brains for all the medical problems the families had ever had, all the way to the time when the Lopezes' ancestors were still in the motherland right before the Conquistadores discovered them and they were still struggling from the potato blight in Ireland and the Berrys' ancestors were still lost in the desert for forty days and forty nights and both the Lopezes and Berrys' ancestors were perhaps still in villages in Africa. She had also put together a hospital bag, and an emergency kit and regularly runs drills in the house for in case her water breaks and times how her wife, who is almost always irritated at this drills, and Suzie, who is almost always having fun with these things, move from the time her water breaks to the time they get to the hospital. While Santana and the rest of their friends find this drills strange and at best unnecessary, Suzie fully supports it and Sam, who, he reveals, keeps an emergency duffel bag of supplies for in case he survives an apocalypse or a nuclear fallout, an invasion, earthquake or tsunami, finds Rachel's drills practical and reasonable.

She had also started looking into possible pediatricians, child care options and childbirth classes, which, though not necessary until at least the twentieth week of her pregnancy, was still something she needed to plan for, given Santana's busy schedule. And since she _is_ married to a lawyer, she had approached Santana, one evening, after dinner, when Santana was in her little office, trendy glasses hanging low on her nose, long hair tied high up in a messy bun, tendrils escaping and framing her face in a lovely way, as she hunched over her PC, typing up a brief, as law books and her trademark yellow legal pad lay strewn all over her mahogany desk, to ask for her help about updating her will to include directions for the child's inheritance and guardianship. She had also wanted to purchase life insurance for the child and update her retirement account beneficiaries, she'd informed Santana. Santana had sat there, face expressionless, when Rachel explained that she needed to update her will, for in case she dies, and obviously she wants Santana to be with the child if and when she dies from any unfortunate event, but there is this subtle shift in Santana's expression that tells Rachel that though Santana knows this is practical and sensible, she isn't comfortable with the idea of revising a will for in case something happens to her. But Santana sits there and patiently listens and she nods okay and promises Rachel she will help her, and after staring at Rachel and having her eyes glaze over as her mind drifts away, Santana slowly goes back to work, apologizing to Rachel that she has a lot of work to do as she gestures to the papers on her desk. Rachel nods and quietly, sadly exits her wife's office.

There's something going on with her Santana, Rachel thinks, and she can't quite put her finger on it, and though she knows Santana is as happy as she is that there is a baby on the way, she knows that there is something Santana isn't saying. She notices it from the longer than normal silences that fill the gaps between their conversations, the hesitations and pauses that Santana has when Rachel brings up something involving anything medical, from the fact that she seems to be working even later than usual these days, sometimes ending up dozing off in her office until Rachel comes down and wakes her up and gently tells her to come upstairs and sleep on their bed. It's when she thinks Rachel isn't looking and she sees this look of subtle panic, anxiety, fear, _doubt_, on Santana's face, in her brown eyes, and Rachel thinks maybe she made a mistake doing this in the first place without telling Santana first, that maybe Santana isn't ready, that maybe this baby is a mistake. Except she wants this baby, even more so now because this baby _is_ really hers and Santana's, that clichéd symbol of their love and commitment to each other. There were many times when she had wanted to talk to Santana about it, but she finds she couldn't, because she is afraid Santana will confirm her fears. Rachel had never realized it until she found out she was pregnant how badly she had wanted this for herself, how badly she actually wanted a baby, a baby to raise and nurture and love. She knew she already had Suzie, but she also wanted another one as well. She had so much joy, so much fulfillment raising Suzie together with Santana that she had wanted another one. She wanted it all. And like everything else, she knew that was one of her problems - that she wants everything too much.

She's afraid maybe this will drive Santana away.

* * *

Kurt arrives a few minutes later and after his order is placed (a Frappuccino), and they exchange perfunctory pleasantries, as they wait for Santana to arrive. Minutes later, Santana comes, in her trademark dark blue suit and cream blouse and heels, briefcase in one hand, still talking to someone on her phone as she pushes the glass door with her shoulder. Her face looks annoyed as she talks on the phone, but the second she spots Kurt, then Rachel, a slow smile spreads on her face and she quickly wraps up her telephone conversation as she makes her way to the two, waving at them. As Rachel watches Santana make a beeline to them, Rachel does not fail to notice male and female heads turning, checking her out subtly and sometimes not-so subtly. When Santana gets to the two though and she leans over and kisses Rachel, giving her a tender kiss on the lips, the one that indicates to Rachel that she has missed her and is very glad to see her, and Rachel looks around again, the people staring at Santana now avert their gazes to something else entirely, suddenly drinking coffee, or studying the book or newspaper they have brought with them, or the passersby passing by the large, floor to ceiling glass windows of the coffee shop. Santana then sets her briefcase down, pockets her cellphone and leans over to kiss her wife again, runs a hand on her hair before she turns to Kurt and says, "Hey, Hummel. What's up? Hurry up, Rachel and I have places to go."

Santana puts her arm around Rachel and smiles at her lovingly. Rachel smiles up at her. Today is the day they are meeting Dr. Westheimer for their first ultrasound of the baby. Rachel can see the excitement in Santana. Like her, Rachel is excited about the baby as well.

"Nothing," Kurt says. "Now, good thing you're here because well, we've arranged this meeting so we can perform an intervention, because as your friends, Rachel, we feel this is getting out of hand," Kurt continues as he pulls out his laptop, turns it on and waits as Kurt opens the Skype software. He informs them that they are having a conference call with Quinn, Tina, and maybe Sam and Mike, on Skype. He briefly explains that Mercedes had a prior appointment so she couldn't make it, but that she echoes the others' sentiments as well.

"What do you mean intervention?" Rachel asks now, wondering, looking at Santana, puzzled. Santana shrugs.

Before her question is answered, their friends are on Skype and exchanging self-same pleasantries with Rachel and Kurt.

"Hey, everyone!" Sam greets everyone else as he adjusts his webcam and everyone can see his Star Wars shirt as he absently fingers the scarf he is wearing on his neck.

"Hey, you guys!" Rachel says now.

"Hey, Kurt, Rachel, _Santana_," Quinn says, smirking when she says Santana's name. "Hey, Santana, how's flight attendant training?"

"Screw you, Q," Santana quickly snarks back. "How's the convent?"

"Bite me, S," Quinn replies. "I'm praying for your soul."

"Pray you get better clothes, jerk," Santana retorts.

"Nice scarf by the way," Quinn comments to Santana.

"This is Hermes, jerk," Santana says, but she removes her scarf nonetheless.

Sam quietly removes the Hermes scarf on his neck, as well, when he realizes, to his horror, that he is wearing the exact same shade and design of scarf as Santana's.

Rachel rolls her eyes at the bickering friends. "Guys, _please_. _Anyway_, what you guys up to?"

"Well, if you must know, Rachel, Sam and Mike have just been discussing Superman's more…err…interesting and really gross powers," Tina supplies by way of answering. "For the better part of a decade now."

"What?" Rachel asks.

"Yeah, since Superman has all sorts of super powers, like his heat vision and whatever," Sam says now. "I bet he hasn't even discovered that he has other kickass superpowers! Like, super piss! It shoots out of his dick and kills the bad guy! Or super poop?"

"Super poop?" Rachel asks.

"Nothing says romance more than super poop!" Tina says sarcastically now.

"Yeah, poop! Everyone poops!" Mike says.

"Yeah, it's very egalitarian!" Sam says, in earnest. "But I bet Superman didn't even realize his poop actually can melt the villains' brains or something!"

Everyone but Mike and Sam make a face.

"Gross," Santana says. "And that is why I prefer Batman."

"Batman's boring," Mike says.

"Take that back," Santana says, pretending to be offended at Mike's remark.

"It's true Santana. But that will be a discussion for another time," Sam says now. "Oh, oh, super mucus! That would be cool!"

"Because it comes with super booger!" Mike supplies.

"Ugh, where do you dorks get these ideas?!" Quinn asks.

"_Jeffrey!_" Sam and Mike answer in unison before they dissolve in laughter.

"Sorry to be the one to say it, Quinn, but you're also married to one," Tina says with a smirk.

"Shut up, Tina," Quinn says.

"Oh, and you haven't heard their compelling argument on Superman's other gross superpowers, like vomiting, coughing, sneezing, crying and farting," Tina says, sarcastically.

"Oh, oh, you think Superman can ever get Lois Lane pregnant?" Mike asks now.

"Naw!" Sam says sagely. "Superman's sperm is very strong, it would shoot out of Lois Lane's fallopian tube or uterus or whatever it is you call that thing down there, and it would instantly kill Lois Lane! The only one strong enough to hold Superman's sperm is Wonderwoman, but we know that ship ain't happening!"

"Because I ship Batman with Wonderwoman, yo!" Mike says.

"Hell yeah!" Sam says. "And we don't care what you say, Superman's super piss and super poop and super booger are awesome powers! But you know what's better than all that? Superman and his awesome super mucus, that's what!"

Everyone is silent again as Sam and Mike laugh and the others patiently wait for their laughter to die down before Kurt clears his throat and says, "Speaking of mucus, like I said, we are here for an intervention because, we think it is getting out of hand."

Sam immediately sobers up and says, "Yes. Accepting is the first step towards the healing process."

"What are you guys talking about?" Santana asks now, pulling Rachel more protectively closer to her.

Kurt sighs and the others raise their eyebrows, nod encouragingly at him and Kurt continues, "It's this whole…baby thing, Rachel…"

"Baby thing?" Rachel says. "I don't understand…"

"Well…" Kurt begins. "Let's start with the cervical mucus…"

"Yes, the cervical mucus," Tina echoes, sighing.

"Because seriously, reading about your cervical mucus, its egg-white consistency, or its extra thin, or extra-stretchy or extra-clear whatever…isn't what we want to read first thing in the morning during breakfast when we read your email update," Kurt supplies.

"We really don't need to know whether it being thick, sticky or creamy is good or not," Tina adds.

"And those vaginal discharges are also kind of…gross," Kurt continues.

"I wish I could unread all of that," Quinn comments, making a face. "In fact, I wish I could _unremember_ all of that."

"But your report on your breasts was pretty awesome!" Sam says now with a grin.

"Hey, watch it!" Santana quickly says now.

"Sorry, Santana," Sam says. "Speaking of which. I like the name Aureole. I think I'd like to name my child Aureole."

Santana, Rachel, Quinn, Tina and Kurt make a face as Mike throws back his head and laughs.

"_Anyway_," Tina says. "We sympathize with your lower abdominal pain and your lower back pains. Quinn and I have had children ourselves. In Quinn's case, twice…"

"Shut up, Tina Cohen Chang-Chang," Quinn says.

"But the point is, we would prefer it if talk of frequent urination, constipation, indigestion, heartburn, would be removed from future email updates, for the sake of our friendship and our sanity," Tina says.

"Yes," Kurt says. "Having to read those very detailed updates is like having someone read "The Secret" out to you for days on end, non-stop. It's pretty brutal."

Santana holds Rachel closer now and kisses her brow. "It's okay baby, they're just jealous of our happiness," Santana murmurs.

"Yeah, 'cause we're totally jealous of the bodily fluids you're producing and the pain you are going through at the moment, sure," Sam says with a grin.

Santana and Rachel look at their friends, not knowing what else to say, before Santana clears her throat and says, "I don't understand. How come Sam and Mike get to talk about Superman's super mucus and Rachel can't talk about cervical mucus?"

When everybody just stares at Santana as she valiantly tries to defend her wife, Santana sighs, looks at Rachel resignedly and says, "Baby, I'm sorry, I love you, but it _is_ kind of weird."

Everyone starts to laugh as Rachel has this look of surprise on her face and she playfully hits Santana on the arm and Santana says, "Ow!"

"Guess who's sleeping on the couch tonight!" Sam jokes in between laughter.

"Shut the hell up, jerk," Santana says, blushing. As their friends continue to laugh, Santana leans over and whispers, "It's okay, baby, I don't mind you talking about that to me. I like hearing you talk about our baby."

Rachel grins at Santana.

When the laughter dies down, Rachel sticks her chin up and says, "Fine. It's a huge imposition and I don't know what I'm going to write on my updates now that you guys want me to take all of that out and what are we going to talk about then?"

"Not each and every infinitesimal detail of your pregnancy, that's what!" Sam says. "And while we're on the subject, and this goes for everyone, updates on each and every family member is fine, but seriously, we don't need those too, especially during the first few months of life… I'm looking at you, Mike."

"What? My two awesome kids are awesome!" Mike says. "Why wouldn't you want to know more about them?"

Sam rolls her eyes as Tina says, "_Our_ two awesome kids. _Ours_. They're_ ours_, Mike."

Everyone laughs as Mike says, "Sorry, Tina."

"_Anyway_," Sam continues, "Whatever. We single people can only take so much."

"Ugh, single people. They never get these things," Mike says now, shaking his head. "Go get wed and have kids or something!"

"Does that mean…we're going to have a ban on other things, too?" Sam asks now, deeply concerned. "Because…we like our geeky stuff."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "It's fine. We know you can't get laid and you have to find something to put your energies in. Besides, we already know no matter how many times we tell you enough with the geeky stuff, you'll never stop, so." She then looks at Rachel. "Just…lay off on the cervical mucus and vaginal discharge and we're good."

Rachel, Santana and Kurt spot Dave entering the coffee shop and wave at him. Dave grins as he makes his way to their table and Kurt orders brewed coffee for him and he takes a seat beside Kurt and says hello to everyone.

"So, now that _that's_ out of the way," Sam says, "Let's talk about the things that we _can_ talk about. Like how is everyone doing? Rachel? Santana? Mike? Tina? Quinn? As for you, Kurt, never mind, don't bother, we're not interested."

"Hey!" Kurt says, offended.

Everyone laughs. "Just kidding," Sam says.

As everyone takes their turn giving updates about their lives - Quinn's work in Congress and her restaurant with Jeffrey is doing well, Mike and Tina are doing well as well, with Mike's dance studio is doing well, Kurt's work at Marc Jacobs, as an assistant, is great, able to travel and attend runways and work with fashion magazines and getting as many freebies as he can, which Rachel, Quinn, Tina and Santana really like. Dave's work, which is now in advertising, is doing great whilst Santana's work at the law firm, which is stressful, is still fulfilling and exciting at best. Rachel smiles as she listens to everyone talk about their lives and thinks idly about her own work. She frets about the work she is doing on Broadway and the television and movie roles dwindling since she announced to her agent, publicist and assistant, that she was pregnant. She knows it was by choice, and she has more hours now than she did before, but she misses the excitement of working on stage and in a set, and except for a few guest spots on television shows, she finds she has a lot more free time than she normally has. It doesn't help that being pregnant has reduced her prospects for acting jobs, since the more her belly shows, the more producers and directors think twice before hiring her. Most roles these days are for young, nubile, beautiful women with no babies on the way. She also hopes that she could get work as soon as she can after her pregnancy. She sighs quietly. As one actor has once said, you're only as good as your next acting gig or your next role. She still has the Foundation, but funding has always been a challenge and it stresses her out more than anything where she would get the next funding for the Foundation. Fund-raising isn't what it used to be and it is harder than usual, although the board is trying its best to look for options to keep the Foundation alive. She doesn't like being idle, she's normally busy and is doing a lot of things, but Dr. Westheimer says she can still work, but if she wants a more successful pregnancy, she needs to ease up on the work as well. It had been a tough choice, but it had to be done.

When everyone now turns to Rachel and she gives them the edited, more optimistic version of what she was just thinking about her own career prospects, and voiced her concerns about the Foundation, Dave pipes up and offers, "Well, I could help. I mean, yeah, I have work, but I can help with…M-I-L-F."

Everyone snickers when Dave carefully spells it out. Dave had actually been volunteering at MILF and quite enjoyed working with Zee and the others. Dave tries not to smile himself as he says, "I'm not promising anything, but I'll see what I can do and I'll get back to you."

Rachel nods gratefully to him and mouths a "thank-you" as Santana checks the time and announces, "Well, we'd love to catch up with everyone but we've got an appointment with Dr. Westheimer, so we've got to run, so sorry."

"Is that that German lady doctor who looks at vaginas all day long?" Sam asks, suddenly interested.

"Yes, that's usually what gynecologists do, Sam and she's like, sixty or something, so, eeww," Rachel replies as everyone starts to laugh again.

"Gross, Sam, now you've got that image in my head," Santana says.

"Aaww, don't pretend like you wouldn't like that gig, Santana," Sam says.

"Bite me, Sam. I don't need to get a job like that. Unlike you, Sam, I can actually get laid whenever and wherever I want, with whomever I want," Santana says, with a smirk, before she turns to Rachel and shakes her head and says, "Not like I'd do that or anything baby."

Rachel smiles. "I know, honey. I know."

"I am in the wrong profession. That sounds like a sweet gig!" Sam says. "But hey, how'd you find your doctor anyway? I mean am I the only who sees the irony here?"

"What?" Santana asks.

"Aw, c'mon. Rachel's Jewish, her doctor's German, it's practically like, circa World War II or something," Sam says.

Rachel and Santana stare at the screen before Santana says, "You're an idiot, Sam. She happens to be one of the best doctors around. And she came highly recommended. Kurt recommended her."

"Kurt?" Mike asks.

Kurt says, "Uh, a friend of a friend of a friend recommended her to me."

"Let me guess…." Sam says thoughtfully. "You used to get your pap smears from her."

Kurt glares at the screen as Sam and Mike laugh and the women roll their eyes.

"Very funny,"Kurt says.

"Anyway, we've _really_ got to go," Santana says now.

"Aaaww, and miss out all the fun?" Sam says. "You're going to miss Kurt's new fashion designs for his new maternity line he's planning…" he jokes.

Kurt clears his throat. "Actually…I have been designing those…"

Everyone is silent.

"Oh," Sam says.

Kurt pulls out a sketch pad, flips through it and shows it to a surprised, then delighted Rachel as she quickly flips through pages upon pages of maternity clothes.

"These are gorgeous!" Rachel breathes as she smiles up at Kurt.

Kurt smiles back. "Yeah. I wanted something simple, but elegant, something bold, but utilitarian, functional."

"I love them!" Rachel gushes, as she looks at the simple print blouses that still accentuate her curves, the pants that look really nice with boots, the skirts and dresses that flow through one's swollen belly.

Dave grins. "Yeah, I thought so, too. His designs are so practical they're practically revolutionary! I told him to show it to you first chance he gets."

Sam and Mike look puzzled before Mike says, "Hate to break this gay moment with you guys but…"

Rachel ignores them and says, pointing at one design, "I like this one. Can it be in cerulean though?"

Rachel holds up the sketch to the webcam and Kurt and Dave and Dave nods as Kurt says, "Hmmm, yeah, you do look good in cerulean."

"That's actually nice," Sam comments, helpfully. "But cerulean isn't really my thing. Maybe in mauve or taupe?"

The girls pause for a moment at Sam's comment before Santana says, "Sam, are you serious?"

Sam looks solemnly at the camera and says, "Heck yeah, cervical mucus serious!"

Santana rolls her eyes as Mike dissolves in laughter and Sam grins. Santana says, "I hate to break yet another really gay moment, but seriously, we've really got to go. Dr. Westheimer's German. She doesn't like it when people are late."

Sam only continues to grin and leans closer to the webcam and says, "Kurt, dude, it's so cool you're designing these things. I've got just the business card for you should you go designing solo." He starts typing something and a pdf file pops up on the Skype chat box.

"What?" Kurt asks.

"Just accept it!" Sam says, with a grin.

Dave says, "I'll do it." He leans over and accepts the file.

When they open the file, Kurt squints and reads the business card on the file, "Kurt Hummel Designs, since…1994?" Kurt pauses, looking at the design before he says, "I was born in 1994."

"_Exactly_," Sam says.

When Kurt does not know what to say, Mike and Sam throw back their heads and laugh again as Kurt glares at them, but he says, "Thanks, I guess."

Santana rolls her eyes and says, "Umm, that's all great and everything, but we're going now."

As the two get up and get ready to leave, the others say their goodbyes. Rachel leans over to give Kurt a hug and Dave a squeeze on the shoulder. Santana grabs her briefcase and offers her left hand to Rachel who, smiling, gladly takes Santana's with her right hand and twines her hand into hers.

"Alright, you dweebs, later!" Santana says, grinning affectionately at the people on the screen and at Kurt and Dave, waving with the hand that is holding the briefcase as Rachel does the same and everyone else waves back at them.

"Later, Rachel, Santana!" Sam and the others say. "Good luck you guys! Take care!"

The couple make their way out of the shop and make their way downtown to Dr. Westheimer's clinic as Rachel says, "Honey, when we're done, can we have some shawarma after? I suddenly have a craving for shawarma…"

* * *

Dr. Westheimer's office is a posh clinic, with much light and an antiseptic feel to it. There are leather seats with low back rests, lava lamps, a small waterfall, an aquarium with small orange fish flicking back and forth in it, a glass center table with pregnancy, family and women's magazines in it and a very blonde, curly-haired, blue-eyed secretary who avoids eye contact with Rachel and Santana after she had made the mistake of smiling at Santana the first time they had come in and Rachel had glared at the secretary before Santana had pulled her into Dr. Westheimer's plush office. The secretary had blushed, embarrassed and afraid of Rachel. The secretary now calls their names and the two get up and go to Dr. Westheimer's inner office.

Now, Rachel is on her back, on a bed, as Dr. Westheimer spreads the gel on her belly, softly telling her, "Now, _zis_ _vill_ feel cold, but do not _vorry_. Now I _vill_ put _zees_ on _zee_ belly and _zees_ monitor vill show you _zee_ baby, _yah_?"

"_Yah_," Santana replies, making Rachel hit her on the arm. "Ow!" she hisses at Rachel.

Rachel only grins as she grabs Santana's hand. The gel is cool and soothing on her stomach. They both look at the screen as Dr. Westheimer drones on and on about how the monitor works. In a few seconds, the screen starts to show the black and white images from Rachel's belly.

"_Zere_ it _eez_, _zee_ baby, it looks normal and heal_zee_ and…"

"Beautiful!" Rachel says at about the same time Santana says, "Heal_zee_?"

"Honey, _healthy_," Rachel answers.

"How did you even figure that one out?" Santana asks.

Rachel only smiles.

Santana leans over and tries to squint at the television screen across her. "I don't see anything…"

"So, _zeez_ _eez_ zee heart,_ zees_ is the head, _zeez_ are the hands, look, _zat_ is _zee_ baby clenching _zee_ fists, see it?"

"No, I don't…I can't see it..." Santana says, but then she leans over and says, "Oh…"

Santana and Rachel are quiet as they watch the images on the screen. Then Santana says, "Did he…she…it just…give us the finger?"

"Huh,what?" Rachel asks, sitting up and looking at the screen, peering at it to see if their child actually is giving them the finger in the womb.

When Santana suddenly laughs, and says, "Just kidding, babe," Rachel leans over and hits Santana on the arm.

"_Vait_, let's see _zat_," Dr. Westheimer says, leaning over and punching a few keys on the keyboard before she leans back and says, "_Vell_, I'm not sure, but I think _zat_ is a _gurrl_."

Rachel cranes her head and looks at the screen and she doesn't realize it but she feels this incredible, overwhelming, feeling of happiness as she looks at the baby growing in her belly. She feels so overwhelmed she actually feels tears well up in her eyes and she turns and looks at Santana and Santana looks teary-eyed, too. There is something that passes through Santana's eyes as Rachel looks at her from the corner of her eyes. It is that day, in Dr. Westheimer's office, as they watch images of their child in Rachel's womb, on the screen, that Rachel thinks Santana changes. In fact, later, Santana would put a print out of the ultrasound in her wallet and when she thinks no one is looking, she actually watches the video of the first ultrasound in her laptop. Rachel would see it once when she accidentally nudges the mouse and the screensaver clears and there on the screen, is the ultrasound video paused in the middle. Rachel would find herself smiling at this. It is the day, Rachel thinks, when Santana's anxiety and fears and doubts probably lessen. Rachel is thankful for this.

At that moment, Santana looks overwhelmed, and moved, and delighted and pleased and there is a look of pride in her eyes as well. It is her child on the screen after all, their child, all looking healthy and amazing and alive and growing and miraculous and _theirs_. _All_ theirs. Santana catches Rachel looking at her and Santana smiles and, says, almost choking, "She's _amazing_."

There is a silence that passes through them after Santana says this and Rachel smiles, squeezes her hand and says, "She really is…"

Santana nods and smiles and Rachel feels overwhelmed herself as the tears come unbidden and she tugs at Santana and Santana willingly comes and she puts a hand on Santana's cheek, kisses her and whispers, "I love you."

Santana smiles and whispers it back, "I love you, too."

Dr. Westheimer sits in front of them, looking all awkward and uncomfortable before she clears her throat and says, "Okay, I imagine you want a video and a print of _zees_, yah?"

"Yah," both Santana and Rachel say when they pull away from each other. "Please. We'd love to have a copy of her."

"_Vell_, congratulations, you two," Dr. Westheimer says, grinning at the two women. "Now shall _vee_ return to _zee_ office _zen_ and talk?"

Rachel and Santana nod wordlessly.

Rachel thinks it is a wonderful day.

* * *

Rachel and Santana go home that day quiet and happy, Santana holding Rachel's left hand with her right hand when she isn't shifting gears, holding the steering wheel with her left hand as they make their way through Brooklyn and into Brooklyn Hill Gardens. Santana had stopped by a shawarma shop to buy Rachel some shawarma but Rachel had already lost her craving. When they get home, Santana is quiet but all smiles, and when they get into the house and Santana locks the door behind them, they look at each other for a few seconds before Rachel steps forward, holds Santana's face and pushes her against the wall of the hallway, planting a long, deep kiss that leaves Santana breathless when she pulls back.

"What was that for?" Santana whispers.

Rachel shakes her head and leans over again for another kiss and when she does, Santana grins into the kiss and says, "Not that I'm complaining."

As they continue to kiss they hear laughter and giggles coming from upstairs and they stop and pull back and look at each other, puzzled.

"What was that?" Santana asks, knitting her eyebrows.

Rachel listens intently as they hear what can only be a boy's laughter and Suzie's unmistakable one emanating from upstairs, from Suzie's room.

When another round of laughter rips the silence apart, Santana wastes no time rushing up the stairs, two steps at a time, down the hallway and into Suzie's room, with Rachel behind her saying, "Honey, please don't embarrass Suzie in front of her friend…"

"I am _so_ going to kill her," Santana mutters when she pushes open the door and there, before the two women are a fully clothed Suzie in her black tee and skinny jeans, laughing hard as her friend, Raj, all greasy and earring-ed, stands in the middle of the room, naked but for boxer shorts and socks, his hands inside his crotch, and muttering, "It's not funny, Suzie".

The two freeze as they see Santana and Rachel.

"Mom!" Suzie says, scrambling to get up from the bed, and grabbing Raj's own skinny jeans on the bed, throws it at his face. "And Mom…Hi you guys, how'd it go?"

The jeans fall to the floor, Raj unable to catch it, seeming to have frozen on the spot as he stares with what can only be described as absolute terror on his face. His brown chest is scrawny and bony and his arms and hairy legs are equally as thin and scrawny as he continues to stand there, beginning to sweat under the gaze of Suzie's mothers. Despite the warm weather, he shivers under their stares.

"You have five seconds to take your hands off your crotch, put your clothes on and explain," Santana says now, expression growing dark as she stares from one to the other.

Raj, full-on hyperventilating and so terrified of Santana, that he begins to stammer as he says, "Miss Lopez, I'm…I'm sorry…It's not what you think…"

"Isn't it always?" Santana says tightly, coldly, sarcastically, in Raj's direction.

"I…I…I can explain…it's…it's…" Raj stops, wracks his brain for something and then says, without once taking his hands off his crotch, "It was Suzie's fault…"

Suzie scowls at him, running a hand through dark, blonde hair and folding her arms in front of her, in true Santana fashion, before she says, "Great friend you are, you jerk."

"Now, let's all just calm down, okay?" Rachel says, stepping forward, holding Santana's arm and gently pulling her back a bit. She turns to Raj, "If you could just put something decent on, first, young man, maybe we can all go down to the living room and talk about this like adults, shall we?"

"Um," Raj mumbles, shifting nervously from left to right. "I…I can't…"

"I'm sorry, what?" Rachel asks.

"I'm…I'm…" Raj says, hesitating, before he sighs and says, "I kind of…glued myself to…uh…myself…"

"What do you mean?" Rachel asks.

Santana stares at the boy cowering in fear in front of them, fold her arms in front of her, but there is a tell-tale smirk that she is trying not to show on her face as she watches fascinated as the scene unfolds.

"I'm…I'm glued…I'm glued…"

There is a silence that stretches as Raj stands uncomfortably glued to his crotch and Suzie looks down on the floor guiltily and Rachel and Santana are wondering how the boy had glued himself to himself in the first place.

"How did you even…?" Rachel says. She pauses before she says, "You know what? Never mind. Suzie call 911, I don't think that thing is going to come off without some skin coming off, and maybe some penis blood spurting out, too, so best let the professionals get it off and…"

"P-penis blood?" Raj stammers before he stops, looks at them in horror, and faints on the floor.

They all stand in silence in Suzie's room before both women look at their daughter and say, at the same time, "Suzie!"

Suzie looks at them as innocently as possible, but comes off only as guilty as she says, "I didn't mean to!"

* * *

Hours later, during which they had called 911 and had Raj rushed to the hospital via ambulance, called his parents, and the parents had called them to thank them for helping Raj and informed them that Raj and the future of their lineage, his penis, is alright, and they managed to wheedle the story out of Suzie - it had been a boring summer's day with no school and no one to bully, so Raj, somehow, got his hand on a bottle of lubricant and they had been checking it out, and when Raj had gone to the toilet, Suzie had replaced the lubricant with glue. Suzie hadn't known Raj would actually use the lubricant on himself and she hadn't thought it had been dangerous until they had called 911.

"I'm now convinced that all teenage boys think about is sex. We weren't going to do it, I swear," Suzie had said. "It was just for educational purposes."

Santana rolls her eyes. "I'm sure it was."

"Mom!" Suzie says. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because I was a teenager myself, Suzie," Santana says.

"Aww, Mom, it's Raj. I wouldn't do him if he were the last guy on earth," Suzie says matter-of-factly now. "Unless somebody pays me a billion dollars, or if, you know, I have to do him to save the world from destruction or something."

"Ugh, Suzie, why can't you be like other normal teenagers and brood, and be angst-y, and rebel and shout back at your parents or something?" Santana asks now. "Why do you have to do stuff like glue boys' hands to their…_penises_?!"

"Because it's much harder to glue a girl's hand to her nipples?" Suzie ventures an answer, with a mischievous grin on her face.

Santana glares at her. The grin on Suzie's face disappears.

Rachel tries to bite back the smile and instead bites her lower lip. It was no secret that Santana and Brittany were the more interesting ladies of high school. Compared to Santana, Suzie's antics are practically saintly.

So she leans over now, touches Santana's arm and says, "San…" She then turns to Suzie and says, "Suzie, you know you're grounded, right?"

"_Aaaww_, _Mooom_," Suzie whines. "I'm _fifteen_. I shouldn't be grounded anymore."

"Well, if you stopped doing stuff like gluing your friend's hands to himself, we wouldn't now, would we?" Rachel asks.

Suzie sighs. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Rachel smiles. "Good. Also, you're on kitchen, garbage and housework duty, for a month, okay?"

"_Aaww_, _Mom_," Suzie whines even more. "Not my fault he's such a loser. He lost the game, we were playing strip 'Counter Strike'. So."

"Strip 'Counter Strike'? What does that even _mean_?!" Santana asks.

"And no computer or internet or television, for two weeks," Rachel continues.

"_Aaaw,_ _Mom_," Suzie says again. "You can't do that. That's like child abuse or something."

"Should have thought of that kiddo before you pulled your little prank," Santana says.

Rachel smiles. "It's either that or summer camp, sweetie."

"No summer camp!" Santana and Suzie say together, Santana a bit more vehement about it.

Suzie and Rachel stop and stare at Santana as Santana says, "I'm sorry. Just, no summer camp. Bad memories. Plus Brittany and that alien invasion story of hers…"

Rachel nods. "Okay."

"Alright, alright," Suzie says. "But can my friends come over though? Can Kate come over? She's here for the summer, so."

Rachel looks at Santana. Santana shrugs.

"Okay," Rachel says. "But no sleepovers. For at least a month or two."

"Aaaw, Mom. You're killing me here. You're killing me," Suzie says.

Rachel and Santana wait for their daughter to go up the stairs and into her room and start cleaning it up before they both start laughing.

When Suzie comes thundering back down the stairs and says, "Kate wants me to go over to their place, can I go Mom? I'll have her Mom call you and everything…"

"You really don't understand the concept of being grounded do you?" Santana asks.

"Please?" Suzie says, grinning.

The two look at each other before Rachel sighs and says, "Fine. But home before nine, kiddo, or I swear to god, you're going to be grounded for another lifetime."

Suzie grins at them, squeals in delight and says, "Great! Thanks! I love you guys!"

"Try not to glue her hand to her nipples, okay?" Santana calls to Suzie as the girl makes her way up the stairs to change. She then turns to her wife, realizes something, mutters, "Oh, _shit_," then turns and shouts back up the stairs, "Try not to get anyone _naked_ or you get grounded till senior year!"

Rachel smiles at the muffled "Alright, alright!" coming from up the stairs, then turns to Santana and says, "I'm going to go change, okay?"

"Okay," Santana says, "I'm going to call Kate's Mom and check up on that one, okay? You want a cold drink or something?"

Rachel grins. "Please."

For the second time, Suzie thunders down the stairs, rushes into the living room and asks, "Well, is it a boy or a girl?"

Rachel grins. "Thought you forgot about that."

Suzie grins. "Sorry. The Raj gluing himself to himself made me forget. Well, is it a boy or a girl?"

Rachel smiles. "It's a girl."

"Yes!" Suzie says, doing a fist pump. "That is _awesome_!" She rushes towards Rachel and Santana and gives both a hug. "Congrats, Mom! And Mom! So happy for you guys!" Then she pulls back and says, "I _so_ win the bet! Calling Uncle Sam now!"

Rachel laughs as Santana rolls her eyes and Suzie grins, after which she rushes up the stairs again to change and inform Sam about the ultrasound.

* * *

When Rachel doesn't come down from their bedroom, Santana goes back up the stairs to check on her. Kate had already come by to pick Suzie up and the water she'd boiled was rapidly cooling.

Rachel hears her voice from the bathroom, where she'd decided to take a bath in the tub.

"Hey, babe, your daughter's left and I'd just like you to know she's a hustler and your drink's ready…" Santana says into the bathroom and stops when she sees Rachel in the tub, naked and all covered in bubbles and soap, hair tied up in a messy bun.

"Hey," Rachel says, smiling, looking up at Santana.

"Hey," Santana says, smiling back, leaning on the doorway.

"Sorry. I was feeling hot, so I decided to take a bath," Rachel says, by way of explanation.

Santana nods. "Okay."

Rachel grins. "Care to join me?"

Santana grins back. "I thought you'd never ask."

Seconds later, in which Santana takes off her suit in record time, she lowers herself in the bathtub, facing Rachel.

They look at each other for a few seconds, in silence, before Rachel sighs and says, "I feel so fat. I'm so fat."

"No, you're not," Santana says, shaking her head.

Rachel says, "Yes, I am. I feel so fat and bloated and tired all the time and ugh…I've got a few more months of this. By the end of this pregnancy I'm going to look like a freaking _house_."

Santana smiles. "No, you won't, baby. Plus you're carrying our baby, so you get a free pass from all that. I mean you drive me crazy with your insane schedules, journals, updates and cravings, but you're gorgeous."

Rachel smiles. "Really?"

Santana smiles. "Really."

Rachel continues to smile before the smile disappears, and she looks down and stares at her breasts. "Ugh. My nipples look like baloney."

"That's not true, baby. They look like pepperoni nipples, at least. _Not_ baloney."

Rachel mock glares at her. Santana grins and says, "Just kidding. They're gorgeous. Like everything else is about you, okay?"

The smile returns on Rachel's face and she says, excitedly, "Okay. Sing me something."

"What?"

"Sing me something."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"That's a pretty compelling argument," Santana comments.

"You know you're going to just lose this argument anyway, so…sing me a song."

Santana rolls her eyes, wracks her brain for a song and starts to sing Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are."

"_Don't go changing,_

_To try and please me…"_

"Oh, honey, that's nice, but I meant sing me a song from _this_ century," Rachel says. She then pulls back and says, "I've got a song for you…"

When Santana nods and says, "Okay", Rachel starts to sing Barbra Streisand's "The Way We Were."

"_Memories, from the corners of my mind_

_Misty water colored memories_

_Of the way we were…_

_Scattered pictures…"_

Santana doesn't even let her finish as she throws her head back and laughs. "Baby, I thought we were going to sing songs from _this_ century. That song's older than my Abuela!"

"Hey!" Rachel says, sulking. "How dare you! That's…"

"Barbra Streisand, I know, I know," Santana says. "Okay, here's a song I think you might like." Santana grins as she starts to hum the first few bars of Bruno Mars' "Just the Way You Are", then she starts to sing the first stanza of the song.

"_Oh, her eyes, her eyes make the stars look like they're not shinin'  
Her hair, her hair falls perfectly without her tryin'  
She's so beautiful  
And I tell her everyday…"_

As she sings the song, the smile on Rachel's face grows wider.

"_Yeah, I know, I know when I compliment her, she won't believe me  
And it's so, it's so sad to think that she don't see what I see  
But every time she asks me do I look okay? I say…"_

And here Santana pauses to lean over, puts her hand on Rachel's face and kisses her softly before saying, "I love you." Rachel smiles as she moves over, and straddles Santana's thighs, putting her arms around Santana's neck as she gazes down at Santana. Santana looks up at her and smiles, her arms automatically snaking around Rachel's back, holding her and steadying her as she continues to sing,

"_When I see your face  
There's not a thing that I would change  
'Cause you're amazing  
Just the way you are_

_And when you smile  
The whole world stops and stares for awhile  
'Cause girl, you're amazing  
Just the way you are…"_

Then when Santana makes to sing the next stanza, Rachel sings along, doing soprano as Santana does the alto part, their voices blending perfectly,

"_Her lips, her lips, I could kiss them all day if she'd let me  
Her laugh her laugh, she hates but I think it's so sexy  
She's so beautiful  
And I tell her everyday_

_Oh, you know, you know, you know I'd never ask you to change  
If perfect's what you're searching for, then just stay the same  
So don't even bother asking if you look okay  
You know I'll say…"_

The two stop, gaze at each other before Santana tightens her hug around Rachel and she says, "I love you so much, Rach."

Rachel smiles, looks in Santana's dark, deep eyes before she says, "I love you so much, too, San," and she leans over and kisses Santana.

Santana pulls back and grins. "Have to finish our song."

Rachel smiles. Santana finishes the chorus and Rachel joins in,

"_When I see your face  
There's not a thing that I would change  
'Cause you're amazing  
Just the way you are…_

_And when you smile  
The whole world stops and stares for awhile  
'Cause girl, you're amazing  
Just the way you are…"_

When they finish the song, Rachel only smiles at Santana. They are silent for a few moments, before Rachel's hand comes up to brush Santana's cheek. Rachel then turns her body around and leans on Santana's chest. Santana's arms automatically come around and hold Rachel.

They stay like that, Santana holding Rachel, soap suds and bubbles surrounding them, sun streaming through the bathroom window, until the water is too cold for them to stay in the bathtub and despite the warm weather, they both shiver. And then they reluctantly get out of the tub, rinse and dry themselves before Santana mischievously grins and whispers to Rachel, "What say we take this party to the bedroom?" Rachel grins back as Santana takes her hand and half-lifts her back to the bedroom and they both fall back on the bed, laughing and giggling and kissing and making love in the middle of a lazy July summer afternoon.

Rachel had never actually imagined she would someday be married again, have a family and be pregnant. She had never even imagined she would have that life with Santana Lopez. She had never imagined that once she let go of the preconceived notions she had, of all the things she thought could make her happy, once she opened her mind and heart to the possibility of happiness with Santana, she found she could actually be happy, happier than she could ever imagine, or hope for, or fathom. Because the thing is, despite all the opposition and skepticism that people had against her and Santana's relationship in the beginning, the truth of the matter is, she and Santana were made for each other, they just _fit_, like pieces of a puzzle, and despite everything, they have made it, because above everything else, the love they have for each other has triumphed over and over again and has kept them together. And it is the one thing that she knows will keep them together for a long time.

* * *

_**Author's end notes:**_

_**That's it for this chapter! Your kind reviews for this chapter are much appreciated. Thanks for reading the last chapter too, as well as favoriting, PMing and following this story. :)**_

_**This chapter expands a bit on "Pezberry: The Early Years", in response to those who liked the one-shot "Imagine Me and You". **__**As I mentioned, I shift POVs quite a bit for this story, but h**_ope you guys enjoyed this chapter, nonetheless! **:-)**

_**Again, many thanks, beta DragonsWillFly, for the said and the unsaid comments that helped make this chapter expand and be better. Acknowledgements also go to avclub dot com and io9 dot com for my geek fix (as well as the sci-fi anthology, "Dimensions" I am currently reading now. Yes, I'm a geek, okay?), the many friends who TMI and the very informative websites, magazines etc. **__**for the inspiration. **_******:-)**

_**Now on to your comments -**_

_**To Joselely, yanval & baxterj -Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. Special shout out to bazterj who read ALL the stories in a few days. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, too! Cheers!**_

_**To parker88 - Hey! As always, many thanks for reading. Re: Rachel's cravings - yes, I thought it would be fun to write about that. As for Santana being gay on the show - god, yes! It IS easy to forget she's gay! As for the sexy times - glad you liked it! You know we're all for sexy times, haha! Cheers! Hoped you enjoyed this chapter, as well!**_

_**To kutee - Hey! Glad you loved chapter 2! Thanks for reading and reviewing! I enjoy writing Glee friends. :) Hope you enjoyed this one, too! Cheers!**_

_**To w1cked - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Yes, I wanted to write about a group of friends who would love and support each other no matter what, as we hardly see that on Glee. As for Pezberry - glad you love them together! :) I think they're awesome! Cheers!**_

_**To kickangel - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Glad you liked chapter 2. Yes, I had fun writing the group Skype scene as well as the many Glee references. Yes, Sam is the most likeable Glee male character, really, that's why I like writing him. :) As for the references, yes, it was "Imagine You and Me", watched that a hundred times, too! :) As for Pitch Perfect, yes, I am Dixie Chicks serious about my "Pitch Perfect" obsession. Sometimes I watch "Pitch Perfect" to feel joy, after I've just watched a profoundly bad ep of Glee. Off now to do some horizontal running (haha! Fat Amy is awesome!). Cheers and hope you enjoyed this chapter, too!**_

_**To pictureofsuccess - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing chapter 2! Glad you loved it! As for Rachel's craving for pristinely glazed donuts and "the Rachel who has a portrait of herself and wants her unborn baby to someday sleep in a crib with it hanging over its bed is the Rachel of my heart" - your comment/s made me laugh so hard! Hahah! Thank you. Yes, the adorkable season 1 Rachel is the Rachel of my heart, as well, along with my beta's. We kind of miss her, really, that's why I'm including all that here now. And you're welcome. As for Sam, hahah! Yes, I love writing Sam, I think he's the most likeable guy in Glee. Glad you like him, too! As for him dating a transwoman or coming out as a lesbian-identified man, you never know. I seriously haven't thought of Sam's love life yet. Let's wait and see how that pans out. Haha! Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading this one, too!**_

_**Song/s featured for this chapter:**_

_**"Just the Way You Are" by Billy Joel**_

_**"The Way We Were" by Barbra Streisand**_

_**"Just The Way You Are" by Bruno Mars (but check out the cover on the OST of "Pitch Perfect" or even the Anthem Lights acoustic version. I didn't really care for the original version until I heard the "Pitch Perfect" acapella version, which you should totally check out on youtube. Like right now. It's pretty awesome.)**_


	4. Pt 1: Rachel On My Mind

_**Author's note: Dear readers, Chapter 4 is here. Enjoy.**_** :-)**

* * *

Santana's bright red Honda glides smoothly up and over the ramp and into an empty parking space, Celine Dion's "I'm Alive" playing so unabashedly loudly from her car stereo she doesn't even care who hears it. It's Rachel's playlist, Celine Dion, with a bit of Britney Spears and Jessie J and some other pop songs plus the requisite Barbra Streisand and a few other Broadway tunes that include Rachel's go-to shower song and forever ring tone, "Defying Gravity" that Santana made her change after she got sick and tired of hearing the song playing over and over again every time someone called her. She'd added some Mariah Carey and some Whitney Houston and Duffy and Amy Winehouse, B.O.B., Bruno Mars, Jay-Z, Arrested Development, Leftfield, Massive Attack and Prodigy just so she wouldn't sound too much like a dork, but the truth is, she kind of likes hearing Rachel's playlist, and in fact, has recordings of her wife singing those Broadway songs that she has on her playlist as well.

After making sure she's parked correctly, she cuts the engine and pulls the emergency break up, pulls out her car keys, grabs her briefcase, takes off her aviator sunglasses and tosses it on the dashboard, briefly checks her reflection on the mirror and smirks. She is satisfied at what she sees. She looks hot. She looks _smokin'_. She's a confident, successful woman in her thirties with a hot wife and a daughter and a baby on the way. And she just got lucky with said wife this morning, so she's in an extra good mood that no amount of boring meetings could ruin.

She thanks Rachel and her hormones for making her Friday more awesome than is necessary. She has to hand it to Rachel, of course Rachel Berry just had to be the best at everything, including _pregnancies_. As she has told her wife over and over again, Rachel Berry doesn't have to be just good, she has to be _extraordinary_. Not that Santana is actually complaining. It's a great way to end a week and a great way to start the weekend, which she can't wait for. She has half a mind to just call in sick and lie in bed with her very pregnant and very much always-ready-for-sex-these-days wife, but Rachel wants her to actually have a few days free, for when she actually needs Santana by her side, like before, during and after she gives birth, so Santana had grudgingly gotten out of bed, taken a shower and dressed, literally dragging her feet around their bedroom, half-sulking and half-dejected, as her wife lay naked and smiling beneath the sheets. "It's not fair that you get to stay naked and watch me dress and I can't even touch you," Santana whines and Rachel only rolls her eyes, finally deciding to get up and put a robe on just to keep the temptation away from Santana. "Honey, I love you and as much as I would love to actually be having sex with you all the way to the time when I give birth, we actually do need you to work, so please, don't give us a hard time," Rachel had said, smiling at Santana, as she adjusts Santana's collar and smooths down her blouse for her and hands Santana her briefcase and sunglasses and car keys and it's all so unbelievably domestic, it just makes Santana smile and grab Rachel and kiss her because Rachel looks so adorable right now. Lately, Rachel had been using the royal "We", to refer to her and the baby and it just really amuses and charms Santana to no end. So she grins at her and after the quick breakfast that they have together, rushes to work. Since it is summer, their teenage daughter does not wake up till around ten or eleven at least, and they have this running bet to see how late their teenage daughter can go before they start imposing wake-up times in the household. Kate's presence has given Suzie a lot more to look forward to, and though she still hangs out with Raj (who now seems to instinctively go into full defensive mode whenever Suzie hovers near) and another friend, Jane, a not too particularly bright crayon in the box, who she'd tricked into taking off her clothes and rubbing her mobile phone on her auburn hair to get network signal and to charge her mobile phone (Rachel had vainly tried to keep a straight face as she told Suzie it was wrong to pull pranks at people who were less smart than she was), she mostly hangs out with Kate nowadays, playing video or computer games, or hanging out either at their house or at Kate's mom's house, the park, the museum, or go to the movies or, after the grounding had been lifted, sleeping over at each other's houses.

Thinking of her pregnant wife, her baby and her teenage daughter sort of gives Santana those ridiculous feelings of pride and love and suddenly she misses all of them and she rolls her eyes at herself because seriously, when did she start liking Celine Dion and getting sappy and all corny and missing Rachel _Berry_, of all people?

She is aware that she had freaked out when Rachel had told her she was pregnant but that one trip last month to the doctor, Dr. Westheimer's, for the ultrasound to their baby, had been a game changer for Santana. Seeing their baby, on the screen, alive and well and healthy and growing every second of every minute of the day had touched something in Santana, had moved her, had made her think that yes, this is really happening, but at least she could breathe easier knowing the doctor had repeatedly assured her both Rachel and the baby are healthy and everything is fine. Rachel was still in full pregnant Rachel Berry mode, with her charts and schedules and her obsessive journaling and researching and reading and taking notes like crazy about being pregnant. As the weeks go by, Santana realizes that she need not have worried, Rachel is doing so much worrying for all of them that she thinks if there were awards for best pregnancy, Rachel Berry would get it, hands down. Now, with the ongoing debate they have about whether Rachel should have a home birth or a hospital birth, and on top of the high school portrait she still insists they put in the baby room, and now insisting that their child should at least have "Barbra" as her middle name, Santana has her hands full but thank god Rachel has stopped decorating the baby room like a Broadway stage, realizing it might be too much stimulation for the baby.

Now that Santana feels a bit better about everything, she realizes she owes a bit of it to this series of clandestine visits she's done to this psychiatrist, Dr. Sissy Spacey. Quinn had called her once, a few weeks after they'd met for drinks when Quinn was in town, to make sure Santana was okay and to ask her if she'd already talked to Rachel about her fears and anxiety. When Santana had said no, Quinn had exhaled irritatedly, snorted through her nose, before she suggests Santana at least go to a shrink to work through her issues. "I'm well aware that you come to me all the time with your problems, Santana, but sometimes, you need someone more trained to deal with your brand of drama and crazy," Quinn had said matter-of-factly, but also affectionately as well. When Santana had not offered any response, Quinn had said, "Do you remember Dr. Sissy Spacey?"

Santana pauses, wracks her brain for an immediate image to associate with said Dr. Spacey and as Quinn reminds her who she is, the image comes to mind: Dr. Spacey, mild-mannered, genial, phlegmatic middle-aged woman with long, graying hair with streaks of dark, that is always in a loose ponytail tied by her neck, loose tendrils always in bad need of being tucked behind her ear. She has a high, soft voice, kind eyes and trendy, horn-rimmed glasses that she seems to forget is on her head or her eyes and spends an inordinate amount of time looking for it before she remembers she already has it on her person. Santana remembers that Dr. Spacey is also given to unorthodox counseling methods. She nods her head absently, though she knows Quinn can't see her doing so and she says, "Yeah, I do. I met her remember?"

"Yeah, anyway, I hear from her once in a while, but we've kind of lost touch, but anyway, a few months ago I found out she's moved to New York and maybe you can check her out or something, talk to her about this?" Quinn says, all hopeful and concerned Santana is actually genuinely touched by the gesture.

She chooses, instead, to break the spell by smirking and saying, "Yeah, right, but I think she only deals with your particular brand of crazy, Quinn. Mine's a bit on the scale of normal, not batshit insane kind of whatever."

"Oh, fuck you, Santana. I'm just trying to help."

The hurt, offended tone is unmistakable in Quinn's voice and Santana is immediately sorry. She says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"You are such a bitch sometimes, Santana," Quinn says. "Be glad you're my best friend and I still owe you and I have that promise to Brittany I made years ago that I need to keep."

Santana smiles into the phone before she says, "You know you don't need to keep worrying about me like this, Quinn. Or feel the need to keep doing stuff for me just 'cause you feel obligated to do so."

"And that's why you're a jerk, Santana," Quinn points out. "I'm doing this because I want to. Not because I feel obliged to do so. You're such an asshole sometimes I feel like kicking your ass or slapping some sense in you."

Santana smiles. "Thanks, Q. I imagine that's your version of telling me your platonic love for me knows no bounds."

"Fuck you, Santana, I'm hanging up now."

Santana chuckles. When Quinn can get a word in edge-wise, she says, softly, "Will you at least think about it, S? Call her up or something?"

Santana closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Okay."

Santana had kept Spacey's number for future reference and had, when the stress at home got too bad, found herself, one day, in Dr. Spacey's office, awaiting her turn. Once, Rachel had come to her office asking her for help on changing her will to include their unborn baby and name Santana as her guardian should something happen to Rachel, Santana had quietly and expressionlessly looked at Rachel, but she had been subtly hyperventilating on the inside, and when she had started having those bad dreams, she realized that maybe she should go see a shrink. She and Suzie had gone to a shrink before, when Brittany had passed, but the shrink was in California and Santana and Suzie are now in New York, plus Santana thought maybe she should see someone else entirely.

She had forgotten though about Dr. Spacey's unorthodox methods and how she insisted that she and Santana meet somewhere else, like the bowling alley, the baseball cage, or an indoor rock climbing facility, where they discuss, while bowling or hitting baseballs or climbing, what Santana's problems are, which basically revolves around Rachel and their unborn baby, really.

At first, Santana had found Dr. Spacey's methods a bit strange, but she'd given it a try. When Dr. Spacey had asked her what the problem was, and she gave her a basic rundown of events, from Brittany and the complications she had when Suzie was born, losing Brittany, dealing with her loss, her relationship with Rachel and how they'd been trying to have a baby for a couple of years now and had basically given up until Rachel had gone and gotten herself pregnant without telling Santana and she had freaked out, Rachel is in her thirties, it's a high-risk pregnancy, the possibility of losing another wife and perhaps the baby and she'd ended with, "I can't deal with that again…I just…can't…"

She hadn't realized until she'd said that how freaked out she'd been and how afraid she was and she'd stopped, unable to go on, feeling a lump forming in her throat, feeling herself choke, unable to breathe, feeling the tears well up in her eyes and she tries to breathe, her breath shaky and as she brings up one tan hand and tries to run her hand through her long, wavy hair, she realizes that her hands are shaking. _What is wrong with me?_ she'd asked herself, feeling some wetness on her face and when her shaking hands come up and wipe at her cheeks she finds that tears have slid down her skin without her even noticing.

Dr. Spacey had been quiet, had discreetly pushed a box of Kleenex towards Santana as well as a glass of water and Santana had stared at them and it had been like that, silence on both sides, until it was time to go.

The next few times she'd gone to visit Dr. Spacey, Dr. Spacey only listened, nodded her head, threw back the question at her, would ask her, "And how do you feel about that?" Sometimes she would tell Santana to just tell her wife about it, or bring Rachel around so they could talk about it together, but Santana hadn't been sure about bringing Rachel in and besides, Rachel already had her hands full and she hadn't wanted to freak her out with therapy. Therapy was always code for there's trouble in paradise and it would probably stress Rachel out more.

When she had gone, for the nth time, a few days after she and Rachel had gone to their first ultrasound, and Dr. Spacey had again said, in the middle of climbing up a vertical wall, "And how do you feel about that?" Santana had stopped, exasperated, scowled at Dr. Spacey and said, "You know what? You're just telling me what I already know. Why am I wasting time with you?"

Dr. Spacey had smiled enigmatically and said, "_Exactly_."

Santana had stared at her and said, "You are _so_ fired."

Dr. Spacey had only smiled a benign smile, knowing as well as Santana did, that she didn't need Dr. Spacey anymore.

* * *

She smiles at herself now, checks to see if her face looks okay, runs a hand on her hair once, checks her clothes, her red silk blouse, gray blazer and skirt and her red heels and steps out of the car, briefcase in one hand and keys in the other. She still feels some doubts, some fears, about Rachel's pregnancy, mostly when Rachel suddenly complains about heartburn or back pains or headaches, and sometimes, when Rachel talks about her work, Santana feels a familiar ache, this vague regret, maybe even a nebulous jealousy - because Rachel's success reminds her that Rachel got to live her dream, and Santana hadn't. She closes her eyes, shakes her head at these thoughts, pushes down these feelings negating her mood and tries to compose herself, glances at the mirror and smiles a thin smile. She takes in a deep breath to steady herself then exhales slowly, concentrating on bringing herself in the moment. For all of Dr. Spacey apparent, well, spaciness, but one of the things that she had taught Santana was just bringing herself back to the present, or concentrating on a happy place - when she starts to have an anxiety or panic attack. She waits for a few seconds as her heartbeat and her breathing returns to normal. She opens her eyes now.

She briefly debates whether she should spray some Chanel No. 5 on her person, but decides against it. Rachel still seems to have that bionic smell on her and she still makes Santana shower three times when she even gets a whiff of the perfume. She pauses, looks around. It's morning and it's late summer and the temperature is already in the humid seventies and what she would give for a day at the swimming pool or the beach to cool off. She doesn't really mind the summer, except when it gets really hot and one can be in danger of a heat stroke, but it's better than New York winters or the even colder Ohio ones, and the shoveling of snow and the freezing one's ass off in between walks from the car to the house or office or grocery store and back or the blizzards or hurricanes which she really doesn't really care for. She heads to their office via elevator and braces herself for another day at the office.

* * *

A lot has happened since she started working in the firm she works in now. First of all, it had started out kind of small, out in California, in the eighties, taking on modest cases, until it expanded its mandate and it started taking on class action lawsuits against multinational and transnational corporations and public interest cases, especially where the firm believed certain actions were unconstitutional or where in clear violation of the Bill of Rights set forth in the American Constitution.

These lawsuits against corporations would be cases that nobody else wanted to take, cases that involved mining companies stripping whole mountains and communities bare, companies dumping toxic wastes in communities that nobody knew about until all forms of deformities and cancers started showing up in the residents and their children and children's children and people started _dying_, even a famous or really, infamous case of a group of indigenous people south of the border who had lodged a complaint against an American company for using their sacred grounds as a dumping ground for their toxic wastes.

The firm had slowly gained a reputation, but had, along the way, struggled to keep itself afloat in light of its mandate. But it had, however, been able to succeed against all the odds, had merged with a couple of other like-minded firms, restructured itself and continued on with its vision of a world that would be much more environmentally friendly and respectful of each individual's human rights. Whilst a number of its cases are public interest cases, Santana's firm still enjoys the kind of cases that still help lawyers like Santana Lopez enjoy a modest lifestyle, thanks to erring companies with questionable corporate activities.

A few years ago, the firm had affiliated itself with Earth/Rights International, Inc., this equally formidable, non-profit environmental and human rights organization that provides community organizing, public education, campaigns, training, capacity building, policy research, analysis and evaluation on human rights, environment and government and corporate accountability. Santana's New York firm is not only affiliated with the organization but shares office with Earth/Rights, and is the legal arm of the organization, providing legal and consultancy services, paralegal and legal training, legal research, education and advocacy. Earth Rights International, Inc. has an extensive network and partnerships with universities, other non-government organizations, international law firms, the Environmental Protection Agency, American Civil Liberties Union and international bodies like the United Nations Human Rights Commission and the European Environmental Commission.

Santana's firm's affiliation and partnership with Earth/Rights, International a few years ago had necessitated the need for Santana's firm to have an office in New York, where Earth/Rights is based, hence Santana volunteering to be transferred to New York. The firm and the Earth/Rights have just recently opened an office in Asia for its Asia Pacific advocacy.

She likes that her firm has been involved in lawsuits against American multi-national and transnational corporations operating in Mexico, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico and now, Asia. She is quite proud to be with such an impressive organization, and she's even prouder of the fact that she has found a way to put to good use her bitchy, snarky, mean, "loves-to-win", bullying attitude: by turning her sights on erring multi-national and transnational corporations like oil companies, mining companies, chemical companies, and even manufacturing companies who have no qualms about violating the rights of their employees, the communities in which they operate and the local, national and international laws and treaties of which sometimes, if not all the time, they are aware of. She equally enjoys the fact that she also gets to rant and rave about the kind of human rights and social injustices done against minorities, something she had done on a smaller scale in high school. It is not all good though, there had been that Ugandan lesbian they had been fighting for and whose case they had lost. The woman had been deported right after, and it had been a blow for Santana.

She is endlessly fascinated by the work they do and one of the things she enjoys doing is listening to and arguing endlessly with the other lawyers, activists and organizers that comprise her firm and the other people of Earth/Rights, International. They are the finest, most brilliant, craziest, bunch of individuals who have shunned the big bucks in favor of making a difference in the world, a foolish endeavor Santana herself is wont to admit, if not for the sense of achievement, the sense of having done something right, the sense of pride, that working for such an organization does for people like Santana.

* * *

Santana is so engrossed in her own thoughts - thoughts of Rachel really (when did her waking moments not preoccupied with work turn into thoughts of Rachel all the time? Santana wonders. Santana decides she doesn't care) that she doesn't even notice at first, when the elevator slides open and she steps into the legal department of Earth/Rights, International that everyone has stopped what they are doing - the secretaries and clerks and lawyers, the organizers, lobbyists, paralegals, researchers, various other colleagues and advocates - all collectively looking her way, stopping and holding their collective breaths, before someone lets out a whoop of joy and a thunderous applause, accompanied by wolf whistles, and a "Way to go, stud!" and "Congrats, Lopez!" and other derivatives thereof of greetings meet her.

It takes her by surprise, so wrapped up is she in thoughts of Rachel and their baby she doesn't even notice everyone congratulating her and she stops, on her way to her office, surprised and speechless and then a bit embarrassed, a flush crawling up her cheeks as she takes in the grinning, delighted faces of colleagues she's known for years since she's moved to New York office. She takes in the faces and it really looks like of one of those old Benetton ads really - a healthy mixture of pale and brown and black and fair skin - Earth/Rights International takes pride in its very diverse group of people working in it, of all sexes, sexual orientations, religions, creeds and race, the one thing that Santana loves about the organization: it's totally a place where her skin color or her sexual orientation or where she came from, didn't matter and all that mattered is how she is - as a lawyer, in the courtroom. In fact, colleagues had accepted Brittany, Suzie and Rachel without batting an eyelash, some of them teasing her about "that hot, famous wife of yours" whenever they ask her how her family is. Rachel had been to the office a few times in the past, and she'd been welcomed, fawned over and they'd asked for autographs and pictures. Santana had stood by the side, grinning, proud of her wife as Rachel smiled and chatted with the secretaries and lawyers and assistants and interns that suddenly seemed to have a lot of time on their hands.

She'd rolled her eyes at them after a few minutes and told them all, "Don't you guys have some oppressed people and dolphins and polar bears that need saving?" which everyone had just laughed off before turning back to chatting Rachel up. It took her awhile to pull Rachel away from the pack of newly acquired fans but Rachel had grinned and told her, "I love this place!"

These days, since Rachel had reduced her workload (shooting schedules could notoriously be long, strenuous and stressful and tended to happen at all times of the day and night) although she still did a lot of the television show guest spots, small movie roles, magazine interviews and shoots and the other commitments she'd made before she found out she was pregnant and her work with the Foundation. She had some time left to putter around the house or bring Santana lunch or take Santana out to lunch, activities that Santana really enjoyed and looked forward to.

She wonders now why her colleagues would be applauding so long and so heartily her way, but she realizes the courts just ruled in favor of their clients from a small town down south who'd all been slowly wasting away from the toxic wastes that had been illegally and secretly dumped into their town for almost three decades, without their knowledge or consent, and it had been pretty sweet because it is one of the biggest class action lawsuits they'd ever done and had won - it took years, lots of paper work, sleepless nights, trips to the town, time away from her family, talks to condescending corporate lawyer assholes representing the equally annoying corporate assholes themselves, threats and smug statements from the corporation about that "feisty Spic lawyer" Earth/Rights had. She'd thus found it a sweet victory when during one of those meetings with the corporation, the corporate lawyers and their client had sat jaw wide open as Santana and her colleagues had revealed evidence, documents (memos, letters, etc.) that they'd unearthed and the corporation had thought they'd destroyed (score one for small town inefficiency!) that proved they'd been illegally dumping toxic wastes in the town's outskirts - poisoning water supplies and responsible for the slow deaths of the town's citizens.

"How…How'd you even… find a way…" this young, white, smug, Ivy League lawyer (graduated at the top of his class, old money) had stammered. He'd made fun of the fact that Santana was an Ohio kid and a Louisville Law alum who'd gone through college in redneck country on a cheerleading scholarship and was a "Spic" and a "dyke". It took all of her energy not to grab the man, punch him in the face and kick him in the balls, but she had exacted revenge in a much more satisfying way. The courts were awarding the plaintiffs so much money the corporation would probably go bankrupt in a few months paying them off.

She'd thus leaned over the table then and said, "Oh, it was easy. I just performed about a thousand sexual favors, mainly hand jobs, letting them touch my boobs, a few blow jobs, you know…the works…So, I'm kind of _very_ tired…"

Later, her boss, this rotund, jovial, African American, Albert Washington, with a deep, dark, gravelly voice, would comment that that was inappropriate, but he had said it with an affectionate smirk.

* * *

She now grins at everyone, raises a hand and waves them away, mouthing "Back to work" at everyone.

The morning passes by quickly, with meetings with their department boss, Albert, and their colleagues (lawyers, organizers, paralegals, researchers, interns) - Fridays were always for meetings, and meetings with fellow lawyers with how far along they are with the cases they are handling.

Halfway through a break during one of the meetings, Santana gets a call from Rachel and she takes it out in the hallway.

"Hey, baby," she whispers into the phone.

"Hey, honey, sorry to call you. Hope I hadn't interrupted anything?" Rachel says uncertainly.

"No, no, we're on a break, so, " Santana says, reassuringly. "What's up, babe?"

"Nothing much. I've just been rearranging furniture and stuff. Did you know you could burn two hundred sixty six calories just from rearranging furniture?" Rachel asks excitedly.

"Baby, only you would know that, or even think that's a fun trivia to share," Santana teases her. "And no, I did not know that."

Rachel laughs. "Oh, okay. Lunch today? I'm going to get some groceries, we're out of milk, bread and cereal, Suzie always seems hungry, like all the time," Rachel says, to Santana chuckling. "You want me to bring you anything? Okay if I come by your office? I can bring Mexican."

"God, no," Santana says. "Make it Korean. I'm in the mood for that spicy chicken thingamajig that I can never pronounce…boondocks? Ballcock? Cockblock?"

Rachel laughs out loud in the phone. Santana laughs along with her.

"I'm not sure, but I think _buldak_ something?" Rachel says uncertainly.

"God, I love those. Yes, please. With the appetizer I really like," Santana says. "Damn Tina for making me addicted to Korean food!"

"Great! I'm in the mood for those nice spicy noodles myself," Rachel says.

"Baby, most, if not all, Korean dishes are spicy," Santana points out.

"True. Would you prefer Chinese? Japanese?"

"No, I love my sashimi and sushi and my teriyaki but not in a sushi-mood today. Chinese food's too oily. If we eat that, I'm going to have to rearrange the furniture with you," Santana jokes.

"Honey, sex would probably help with the burning of calories. You can burn more calories just doing that," Rachel points out.

"Hmmm, I hadn't thought of that," Santana gamely says, smiling. "I do love my horizontal lovin'."

"I thought you liked vertical lovin' more," Rachel teases her. "Mostly in the shower."

Santana blushes. Suddenly, a colleague, Donald McDonald Johnson III, comes out of the conference hall and signals to Santana that the meeting is about to resume. Santana nods at him and turns back to the phone.

"Babe, I'm at work now," she whispers into the phone. "Stop teasing me like that."

Rachel giggles. "Sorry. See you at lunch?"

"Okay." Then Santana says, "And babe, I think I remember you saying sex makes you lose two hundred seven calories."

"So?"

"So wouldn't moving furniture make you lose more calories?"

Rachel giggles. "I think sex with you makes us burn more calories."

Santana laughs. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay, love you."

* * *

When Santana rejoins the meeting, Donald McDonald Johnson III, who is sitting beside Santana, leans over and says, "Lopez, what up, dude? Nice of you to join us. Because we were like, whoa! And I was like, what? And we were like, Oh. Talking to that smokin' hot, awesome woman of yours?"

"Shut up," Santana hisses. Donald only grins as Santana says, "You know, for a Yalie with a number in your name, you sometimes sound like you went to college with the sea turtles in 'Finding Nemo'."

Donald laughs, bloodshot eyes looking at Santana mischievously, as he runs a pale hand on his unruly mane of long, dark curly hair with his long, delicate, restless fingers. He has an angry sprinkle of freckles on his face, as he pushes his glasses up on his nose, before he grins at Santana. Donald flaps and cracks his knuckles as he smiles at Santana, now looking even more boyish and easy-going, and less than the serious lawyer he is when they are in the courtroom. He looks at her and whispers, "Well, for a kid from like, the Midwest, you're, like, surprisingly cool and stuff."

"Oh, bite me, preppie," Santana snarks back. "And I'm not from the Midwest. I'm from Ohio, Johnson."

"Ohio, Iowa, Idaho, same diff! It's either, like, potatoes or like, corn!" Donald says.

Santana snorts. "Snob!"

Rosemary, one of the office assistants who assist Santana and Johnson with their cases, come into the room and hand Santana pieces of paper, informing her about the people who've called and reminding her of the meetings she has for the afternoon. Santana absently nods and thanks Rosemary.

Johnson watches the exchange between the two women, waiting for Rosemary to leave before he leans over and whispers, "You know the secretary's had a crush on you since, like, forever right? Or at least since Marcy went on maternity leave and we had to take a temp to take her place till she gets back."

Santana looks at him. "What?"

Johnson says, "I take it you haven't noticed it then?"

Santana asks, puzzled, "What?"

"Oh, you haven't. Not surprising. I mean, that hot chick from Accounting? Shannon? She kind of practically salivates when you're around. And always seems at a loss for words. Like she stares at you with her big bug-eyes and kind of just does this fish face, with her mouth opening and closing repeatedly," and here Johnson does his best impersonation of a fish as Santana laughs, shaking her head, and he continues, "And you don't even notice. You're so in love with your wife it's positively nauseating. I feel nauseous just thinking about it."

Santana says, without missing a beat, "Nauseated."

"What?"

"_Nauseated_. It's a common mistake people have. They say _nauseous_ instead of _nauseated._ Oh my god, I sounded just like my wife right then. What's happening to me?"

Johnson laughed. "Oh, yeah, isn't she an English major or something?"

Santana nods. "How do you know about that? Are you stalking my woman?"

"Err, no, no," Johnson says, suddenly looking uncomfortable and afraid. Everyone is aware of course, that you don't cross Santana.

Santana smirks. "Okay. Yes. Theater, music, education, literature."

Johnson grins. "Overachiever."

"You have no idea."

Johnson's grin grows wider. "I hope you meant that in all the possible connotations it's supposed to mean."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Oh, get a life, Johnson."

Johnson grins, punching Santana lightly on the arm with affection. Santana mock scowls at him and punches him back. Her punch though seems to have been a bit strong as Johnson grunts in pain. Thankfully, the others come back and the meeting resumes.

* * *

Having lunch with Rachel is a new thing that the couple has just recently discovered, something that they realized they can do sometimes, when both their schedules are not as hectic, a nice break from their routine. She has come to the office right before lunch, Rosemary showing her in to Santana's office and Santana finds her there with the take-out Korean food Rachel had picked up from the nearby restaurant down the street. Santana's office is small, modest, with large windows overlooking the hallway, covered with venetian blinds, and one window opening to a nice view of the city, now open and blowing a nice breeze into the room. Outside the sky is a clear, deep, dark, cloudless blue, the temperature now having climbed up to the nineties. Santana has shelves of legal books and binders, her Louisville diploma framed and posted on the wall. Her desk is a nice, shiny, varnished wood with glass on top. On the desk is a pencil holder, a two-layer tray with an in and out, yellow pads, a flat computer screen off to one side, its hard drive below. There is a swivel chair behind the desk and behind it is a shelf. The office is devoid of family pictures, for in case clients or opposing counsel come for a visit. She doesn't like having people scrutinize every detail of her life, including her family.

Right now, Rachel looks beautiful, wearing a comfortable white print blouse that allows enough room for her to breathe, but that also still emphasizes the curves of her body. She is wearing pants and comfortable flat shoes as well, because it is the only thing that doesn't make it painful for her to walk. Santana knows this is one of the clothes that Kurt has designed for her. Kurt still is still working for a fashion house, but he seems to be finding a small niche, not in high end fashion, but in the affordable, practical, middle-end ones that people like Rachel, and not supermodels, would want to wear. She makes a note to compliment Kurt for it, right after she teases him, of course. Rachel is five months along the way and her belly is only ever so slightly noticeable. Her face has taken on a little plumpness that makes her even prettier, cheeks ruddy and round and her body, always ever so thin, looks a bit plumper as well. Santana actually likes the bit of meat that Rachel's pregnancy has put on her, since Rachel is always trying to stay fit for her work. Rachel looks happy right now.

When Santana enters her office, Rachel is sitting on the small leather couch, reading a book. She looks up when Santana comes in, her face lighting up like the Fourth of July, smile wide, eyes twinkling and delighted as she tosses the book down on the couch, gets up and walks towards Santana, arms outstretched.

"Hey, baby," Santana greets her softly as she wraps her arms around Rachel's waist and scoops her up in a hug, planting a soft kiss on her lips as she does so.

"Hey," Rachel says, softly when she pulls back and tucks a stray strand of Santana's hair behind her ear, an unconscious gesture that's so very Rachel, and only very Rachel in so far as she interacts with Santana, that it makes Santana grin and kiss her again. Rachel gladly kisses her back before pulling away and saying, "I know you've got like an hour or so for lunch only so maybe we should just get started? I don't want you going hungry or anything."

Santana smiles as Rachel grabs her hand and pulls her to the couch, in front of which are the boxes of food that Rachel has ordered, all laid out for them to eat. Rachel sets to work putting table napkins on Santana's blouse and on her lap before Santana could protest, then handing her her chopsticks and the spicy chicken she requested, offering some rice for her as she does so. Santana nods and Rachel puts some rice in the box as well, before she grabs her own box of spicy noodles and with her own chopsticks expertly scoop up the noodles from the box and into her mouth. It all happens so quickly Santana has no time to react but it never ceases to amaze her to no end how remarkable Rachel is as a wife, and Santana wonders how she could have missed all of this when they were in high school. But then again, she heard Rachel had actually tried to snag Finn with a picnic in the auditorium sophomore year, so she shouldn't be surprised, but then to be the recipient of all these efforts right now, kind of makes Santana feel like she won a million dollars, like she knows something other people don't know about Rachel: the caring, loving, devoted wife who always made sure Santana had eaten or slept well and so on.

In fact one of the perks of having Rachel as her girlfriend and her wife after, is the fact that Rachel was kind of very caring and nurturing. Quinn chose to describe it as Rachel being mildly obsessive compulsive, in a vaguely unhealthy way, but Santana kind of liked it.

She recalls the time just after they'd all flown home from London and Santana had suddenly come down with fever. Rachel had been due to take the next flight out to New York then, but to Santana's surprise, she had stayed and taken cared of Santana, cooked meals for Suzie, helped her with her homework, dropped her off to school and picked her up from school until Santana got better. The first day that Santana got sick, Rachel hodgepodge of home remedies that included different kinds of soup, broth, hot drinks, and different kinds of medicine.

"What's all this?" Santana had said, in between sneezes and blowing her red nose on tissue, as she stared with bloodshot, puffy eyes on the assortment of steaming bowls of soup and cups presented before her.

"Uh, options," Rachel had said, sheepishly, with a smile. "I'm big on medication."

Santana had smiled then, remembering that one time in high school when Rachel had freaked out over her laryngitis. Another perk of living with Rachel is the fact that she is like a little girl scout, always prepared, always ready. When they did their groceries, Rachel always bought two of everything, so they never run out of anything, not even soap, not shampoo, not detergent, not even those fabric softeners that Rachel really, really loves. Their fridge and cupboards are always well-stocked, medicine cabinet always full and Suzie, well, Suzie always had wet wipes and alcohol and hand sanitizers with her. Whenever Suzie was sick, Rachel obsessed and worried and wrung her hands each time, through Suzie's chicken pox and mumps and every little tooth ache or stomach ache she had, whilst Santana had been a bit more laidback, although she was always careful. Santana's mother had been a bit laid-back with them when she was growing up. When Santana had chicken pox, her mother just let Carlos have it as well, so they can both get it over with. Santana and Carlos shared everything, including those times when they were both sick.

Santana had smiled weakly at her then girlfriend. "Oh, god," Santana had said, trying to sit up, "I feel awful."

Rachel had smiled sympathetically, before she sits beside her on the bed, puts a napkin on Santana's chest and lap, picks up a bowl, and with a spoon, she scoops up some soup and feeds Santana. "Here, this'll make you feel better," Rachel had said softly to her, chocolate brown eyes soft and loving and full of worry for Santana.

It would be one of the many times Rachel would make her fall in love over and over again with her. Why did it take her so long to realize Rachel was the one for her? Santana wonders.

As she looks at Rachel now, it kind of makes Santana overwhelmed with emotion and she actually wants to grab Rachel now and kiss her and make love to her, and she kind of suddenly wants Rachel's thighs on her shoulders, clutching her tight, legs spread wide, as Santana lies between her legs, as she worships her and her body and her lips are on Rachel's sex and they're…

Rachel stops, notices Santana just looking at her, so she looks back at Santana, and with a mischievous smile, comments, "You're thinking about sex again, aren't you?"

Santana blushes, before she stammers and says, defensively, "No, no, I'm not."

Rachel grins. "Yes, you were. I would know that look _anywhere_."

Santana blushes. "Sorry. I can't help it. You were the one who said sex helps keep you fit. And don't tell me you weren't thinking of it, too."

Rachel swallows her noodles and casually says, "I didn't say I wasn't. I am well aware of the health benefits of a healthy sex life, San. You know it raises dopamine and endorphin levels, which is always good. Plus, you forget, thirty minutes on top, in cowgirl position, is a fine way to keep me fit and _bend-y_." This makes Santana almost choke on the chicken she's eating and Rachel grabs the bottle of mineral water she has bought, opens it and hands it to Santana with a grin. "Kissing also helps burn at least twenty three calories. For fifteen minutes. At least."

"Only fifteen minutes?" Santana says, with a smirk. "I'm pretty sure the kissing lasts longer than that."

Rachel smiles mischievously. "You know what else can help keep us fit?" Rachel asks now, with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"What?"

"Showering."

Santana stops, staring at Rachel, puzzled. "I'm not following."

Rachel says, "Well, if you have a cold shower, instead of a hot one, your body will actually work overtime to maintain your normal temperature, so you'll lose at least a hundred calories."

Santana grins. "Cool. And I'm not even remotely weirded out by the fact that I think you're trivia-spouting is natural. What's _happening_ to me?"

Rachel only laughs.

Santana says, "So if we add a fifteen minute make-out session into the showering, plus sex after, you can lose about three hundred thirty calories."

Rachel nods before adding, "More, if we make out for thirty minutes or so and make the sex last longer than that, which, knowing you, it will…"

Santana gives her a cocky smile. "Of course! I'm not ten-second Finn!"

Rachel says, "Don't remind me."

Santana grins before she says, "You might catch a cold though. So, if we move it into the bedroom, minus the showering…we could use ice cubes, if you want…it could help you burn an additional two hundred twenty calories."

Rachel smiles. "Five hundred fifty calories a day! We should totally do that every day!"

Santana sighs. "Ah, the things I do for love…"

Rachel laughs. "Are you complaining? Already? I'm disappointed in you."

"What? No, no," Santana says, grinning.

"Good. Because I just bought these nice undergarments from Victoria's that I'm pretty sure you might like," Rachel says, with a smile on her face.

"Victoria's Secret now makes granny panties?" Santana teases her. "And you _still_ call them undergarments?"

"Hey!" Rachel says, hitting her playfully in the arm as Santana throws back her head and laughs.

Rachel rolls her eyes, leans back and folds her arms in front of her.

"Alright, alright, I'm kidding," Santana says, in between laughter.

Rachel smiles, grabs the bottle of water and before drinking it she says, "Fine. I guess there's no ten-minute massage for you then. That can help you lose about one hundred forty five calories, you know!"

Santana stops laughing. "What, no! I was kidding. I totally want a ten-minute massage!" Santana says, with a grin on her face. "Oooh, we can totally include that in our next role play! I get to be the well-hung stable boy again, right?"

Rachel almost chokes on the water and she starts to cough as Santana laughs. Rachel then says, "We've been through this - that well-hung stable boy thing kind of got weird after."

Santana rolls her eyes. "That's because you insist on _authenticity_. And you have it all diagrammed and _storyboarded_. With actual _stage_ directions. And _dialogue_. How am I supposed to remember I have to be on center stage or on stage left or stage right while I recite actual _lines_? And you keep asking me 'What's my motivation?' I mean, the only motivation there is, _is_, well, 'To get you into bed'…"

Rachel laughs. "Sorry. And, honey, that was just the one time."

"And like everything else, it has to be a big musical production. I bet if you could have it your way, it would have fireworks or something. And an orchestra. Maybe even some dancers. I mean, seriously babe, I bet if you could storyboard and orchestrate when we _climax_ together, you would!" Santana jokes as she grins, whilst a tell-tale obvious flush begins to color Rachel's cheeks. "I've always wondered how Finn and the others coped with your slightly OCD approach to kinky sex. I mean you told me once that back in high school, not only were you on the pill, you also wore a diaphragm and you insisted the guy wear a condom and..."

Rachel continues to blush, unable to say anything, before she clears her throat and says, voice trailing off at the end of the sentence, "Finn couldn't keep up."

Santana is silent.

Rachel shrugs. "Sex with Finn...and the others…were kind of..."

"Vanilla?" Santana offers.

"God, yes!" Rachel says, sighing. "I mean, that sack of potatoes dipped in body spray analogy you made about him is true. And I kind of had to keep stopping to explain...things to him...and he kind of...kept arriving too early...and he had this weird thing about mailmen and..."

Santana looks at her. "Okay. We're getting into a weird area here. Maybe we shouldn't talk about ex-es." When Rachel smiles and nods, Santana says, "Although Puck was a bit better, I think."

"Yeah. He was," Rachel concedes.

Rachel reaches out with a hand and rubs Santana's cheek with it. Santana smiles. Rachel says, "Anyway, I could just be the librarian and you get to be the truant bookworm with overdue books and I get to have my way with you?"

"Now you're talking. You do look hot in glasses. And leather," Santana says, the grin on her face apparent. But then it disappears when she realizes something. "Except you keep insisting the safe word is '_Barbra_' and there's no possible version of that where I don't end up laughing."

Rachel laughs. "Alright, alright." She then stops and says, "I actually like you though in a candy striper nurse's outfit. Or, you know, that white John Travolta disco suit you wore senior year. I think that's pretty hot."

Santana blushes before she says, "We should probably stop, or we'll probably end up making out in this couch and I have a reputation to uphold, you know?"

Rachel giggles. "Okay." She grabs some napkins and presses it on the corner of Santana's lips. Santana shyly smiles and mumbles a "thank-you".

After they finish eating lunch and Santana has put them away, and they are having tea in her office, the window open to air it out a bit (some of the others don't like the smell of kimchi inside the office), Santana asks, "So, what have you been up to?"

Rachel grins. "Baby names! And like I said, I burned two hundred sixty six calories just rearranging the furniture!"

Santana's smile disappears. "Oh, god, you didn't touch the office, did you?"

Rachel shakes her head vigorously. "No. Of course not. Didn't you say that space was off-limits?"

Santana sighs in relief. "Okay. So, what are you going to do after?"

Rachel shrugs. "Go do some grocery shopping. Plus maybe go to the bookstore after. Buying a Spanish dictionary."

Santana knits her eyebrows. "Why? You have me. And I come equipped with an extended family, half if not most of which speak Spanish fluently or semi-fluently."

Rachel nods. "Yes, but for some strange reason, the only one interested in teaching me Spanish is your brother Carlos, and he only teaches me words like, '_puta_', or '_hijo de puta_' or '_puta madre_'…I'm actually surprised at the many insults directed towards women, you know?"

Santana only smiles. "Baby, it's not '_pooh-ta_'. Also, please stop. I feel dirty just listening to you say that."

Rachel grins. "You say it sometimes when you're mad."

"But not to you."

"You'd better not! Or you sleep on the couch for a month!"

Santana rolls her eyes. "That's your answer for everything. isn't it?" she says, grinning. "You haven't answered my question. Why are you buying a Spanish dictionary?"

"Because obviously I want the baby to learn Spanish, duh. Studies show kids who learn another language are a lot smarter and remember things more. Plus it makes the child grow up to be more open-minded and stuff."

"Then if she is, she has to learn Hebrew, too."

It is Rachel's turn to knit her eyebrows. "Why? She's not moving to Israel. Unless you want _me_ to move to Israel?"

"No, of course not," Santana says. "I just thought you'd want that."

"Spanish might be better. And maybe Mandarin or Cantonese."

Santana looks at Rachel and smiles. "Oh god, our daughter's going to grow up an overachieving geek who'll be a virgin till she's _forty_, isn't she?" When Rachel says, "Hey!" Santana says, "Because it took some work, but at least Suzie has Kate even though I doubt she'll ever get lucky with her and she's getting guys naked - well, she's gotten them to glue themselves to themselves, but that's beside the point."

Rachel laughs, shaking her head as she does so, then she leans over, cupping Santana's face in her hands and kisses her tenderly. The office is silent for a few minutes as they kiss each other. Moments later, they reluctantly pull away and Rachel smiles, gently running a finger on Santana's jaw.

They spend the rest of their lunch time chatting, Rachel giving Santana updates about her pregnancy.

Santana listens as Rachel chats to her about the books, magazine and website articles she has read, from gender appropriate toys, to potty training, to letting the baby cry out, to schedules (feeding, sleeping, bathing schedules) to how babies can read your mind to germs and sterilizing everything and crib safety and breastfeeding and whether they should have a home birth or a hospital birth, which of course results in her and Rachel having a mild argument about it, yet again.

"No, baby, no home birth for you," Santana says.

"Why not?" Rachel says. "I'd like to go _au naturel_ for this."

Santana grimaces, before she firmly says, "Hell, no. At your advanced age…" here, Rachel mock glares at her and Santana only grins before she continues, "You should be in a hospital, with medical professionals surrounding you to make sure you and our baby get the optimal care you need."

Rachel shakes her head at this and starts to rattle off the many advantages of a home birth to Santana's exasperation and consternation.

"Baby, _no_," Santana says again.

"But I want…" and Rachel again launches into what could possibly a record, lengthy diatribe on hospital births and Santana would have launched into her own arguments for a hospital birth (the advantage of being the daughter of a doctor, she grew up with useful medical information about pretty much anything under the sun), but then she looks up and just gets distracted by how Rachel has gone into what Santana has now come to know as Rachel's "I-came-prepared-for-this-argument-and-I'm-prepared-to-win" face. It's the same face Rachel has been using since high school. It's also the same face she uses right before she wins an argument. Right now, Rachel has begun to spout trivia and statistics about home births and hospital births, according to the magazines and online webzines she has read. Santana looks at her and cannot help but smile at her.

Rachel stops and stares at her, suddenly self-conscious. "What?"

Santana says, "Baby, not all that stuff you read on the internet or in magazines or books or whatever is all true."

Rachel stares at her like she has grown an extra head. "Honey, I can't believe you. We have to prepare for this and stuff. I mean, _I_ have to prepare for this. I mean I realize you're not really new at this whole parenting thing so maybe you'll breeze through this easily, but it's my first time and I don't know if I'm going to be a good parent…and so many things could go wrong and…what if I'm not going to be a good parent? What if she doesn't like me? What if she hates me? What if I suck at this?"

Rachel now looks noticeably flustered, and Santana sees that Rachel has started to wring her hand in front of her.

Santana holds it in for a few seconds before she lets the smile come out, sets down her cup of tea, reaches out to hold Rachel's hands and, looking into Rachel's soft eyes, she says, "Baby, you're freaking out."

Rachel shakes her head then she says, "No, I'm not freaking out."

"Yeah, you are," Santana says as she scoots over the leather, puts her arm around Rachel and pulls her toward her. She then puts her other arm on Rachel and hugs her. She then rests her hand on Rachel's belly, rubs her stomach gently. They stay like that, in silence, for a few moments, enjoying the companionship, before Santana gently says, "Baby, it's going to be fine, okay? _You're_ going to be fine. You're going to be an _awesome_ mom, okay?"

Rachel looks at her, unsure. "Really?"

Santana smiles at her. "Yeah. I think you're going to be a great mom."

"Really? You think I'm going to be a great mom?"

Santana grins. "Hell yeah! I think our daughter is going to grow up an obsessive compulsive, overachieving, domineering woman who dresses like the girl from 'To Catch a Predator', because I'm pretty sure she'll grow up with an aversion for germs, an inexplicable love for Barbra Streisand and Broadway, but I think she'll grow up to be a healthy, well-adjusted, well-rounded individual."

Rachel smiles, before she realizes Santana is teasing her and she hits her on the arm. Santana laughs. "Sorry, just kidding."

Rachel pouts before she says, "Well, she'll probably be in detention all the time because she'll be beating up people while speaking in Spanish…"

"Or Hebrew!…Hell, maybe even Yiddish!" Santana quips, smirking.

Rachel ignores her before she continues, "Or probably be banned from every school this side of the East Coast…"

"Or…she could sing them all to death with those inevitable Barbra Streisand songs you're going to make her sing for her audition for Glee Club, and maybe NYADA or Juilliard," Santana says. "Please let it be Juilliard. I prefer Juilliard."

When Rachel does not say anything, Santana says, with a smirk, "Because, baby, I know you don't say anything, but I know you're already probably playing Barbra Streisand to her while she's still in the womb. I feel sorry for her already. She never had the chance."

Rachel hits her on the arm again.

"Ow! Sorry, baby, I'm kidding," Santana says, with a smile. "And also, I'm pretty sure with you as mom, I won't have to worry about teen pregnancy or anything - she'll probably be on the pill, and be wearing a diaphragm and will insist the guy wear a condom or something. Just like you used to do in high school and college!"

"Hey!" Rachel says, blushing. "Although that's actually true."

"I can't believe Ken Doll the Sex Offender had the gall to go around NYADA saying he got you pregnant. I know this is bad, but so glad he got busted for drug possession and soliciting."

Rachel shrugs. "He was a jerk. Full stop."

Santana nods. "_Anyway_, I bet our daughter will probably never get in trouble, you'll probably beat the kids up for her. Or maybe sing them to death."

"Or _you_ will," Rachel says. "I know after that interesting stunt you pulled at Suzie's last school in Cali, everybody's absolutely terrified of you two. I actually saw that kid wet himself when he saw you two come out of the car when we were dropping her off to school."

Santana says, "That kid had it coming."

Rachel shakes her head and smiles. She leans over and runs a finger on Santana's jaw before she kisses her. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

Santana grins. They stay silent for a while before she says, "You're going to be fine, okay?"

Rachel grins back.

Lunch time goes by really fast for the couple and it is not long before Rachel has to reluctantly go. Santana is averse to letting her go, but since it is a Friday and Santana is riding high on a win her organization has gotten and thus she can actually go home earlier than usual, so she lets Rachel go, walking her down the building. Rachel tells her she will be in town the whole afternoon anyway, so Santana says she'll pick her up in town and they can go home together.

As they go down the building, Rachel receives a text from Sam. She sighs and shows it to Santana. Santana laughs.

"San, your friend's been bothering me. He's been camping out the whole night for three days now, at Comic Con, waiting for that new animated Justice League movie to come out. He's dressed as Superman. Mike is with him. Dressed as…Green Lantern or the Flash, I forgot which. Make Sam stop," Rachel says.

As the elevator slides open, Santana laughs. "Baby, you know I can't."

"Ugh, honey, he's been giving me tips on what movies and television shows the baby should or shouldn't watch," Rachel says. "He says, whatever I do, I shouldn't let the child watch Ewoks, Teletubbies, Barney, Mac and Me and E.T. He says E.T. looks like a scrotum. And he wants us to have some kind of movie marathon about babies next time he's in town. And he's suggesting baby books to read to the baby with titles like, 'I Eat Children', 'Monsters Eat Whiny Children' and 'I Have Two Moms'. Well, I actually like 'I Have Two Moms'. That seems like a niche market waiting to be penetrated. Anyway, I don't get Sam."

Santana puts her arm around Rachel and grins. "Nobody does, baby."

"Your mother and father have been calling and texting me, too," Rachel mentions now. "Well, more your mother than your father really. I now know which teas to take, which soups to make, what herbs to help with the pregnancy, and so on…"

Santana grins, pulling her closer. "Well, at least she keeps in touch with _you_. She doesn't even _do_ that, to _me_."

"Aaww, honey, don't feel bad," Rachel says, pressing her arm on Santana's waist.

They stop just in front of the glass door entrance. A few people come in and out of the lobby. Santana leans to kiss Rachel on the head. Rachel closes her eyes and smiles.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Santana murmurs.

Rachel nods. "Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

The end of the day doesn't come nearly quick enough for Santana and when it does, she grabs the documents she needs to go over for the weekend, stuffs them in her briefcase, grabs her car keys and mobile phone and is off like a shot out of the office and down the elevator to the parking lot, efficiently starting her car and careening down the parking lot and on to a waiting Rachel standing by the curb downtown waiting for her with her grocery and shopping bags.

After Rachel gets into the car, and Santana pulls out of the curb, Rachel launches into a detailed account of what has happened since they last saw each other. Rachel has this thing where whenever she gets some good news, like she's bagged a role she's always wanted, or she'd had a particularly good show or something, the first thing she does is call, or like right now, visit Santana and talk to her. She likes breaking the news first to Santana, likes to share it first to Santana before anything else.

It fascinates Santana to no end that one of the things she would really love about being with Rachel is their conversations. As she talks about greenhouse emissions and the Tokyo Protocol and DDT and the Mayan communities that had been displaced by American companies operating in their towns, or the Amazon forest always being in danger of being annihilated by greedy American corporations, Rachel would rant and rave about the racism and greed in Hollywood. As Santana talks about how offensive it is that the five percent of the world, most of them living in the United States, mostly white, heterosexual privileged males and their heirs, owns about sixty percent of the world's resources and all, Rachel would talk about the white, heterosexual privileged men of Hollywood who make it hard for women, but especially women of color or a different sexual orientation, or creed or race or age, to make it in Hollywood unless they learn to play the rules of the game, or sleep their way to the top.

As Santana complains about how greedy corporations routinely overwork and underpay their employees, especially those outsourced factories in Asia, Africa and South America, routinely employing child labor to get the job done, paying them fifty cents for a day of work in a place where they need at least a dollar to survive, but need more than that to have that kind of decent life only they can dream of, Rachel would talk about the proverbial Hollywood glass ceiling, with women routinely ignored in major awards categories (best director in the Oscars, for example) or women still getting lower pay than men and how Hollywood has contributed into turning the world into a remarkable, homogenous, mindless mass consumer society. Rachel would talk about how odd it is that no matter how good she might be as an actress or as a singer, the fact of the matter is that at the end of the day, she is defined by her physical beauty and her ability to sell something just from sheer looks or body alone. One interesting discussion they had before was about nudity, breast exposure versus full frontal versus backside. They'd had a conversation, back during that time college freshmen year, right before they slept together, when Rachel had asked for her opinion about whether it's okay to show some breast or not for a student film. Santana had rolled her eyes then and said, "I know you want to feel that breeze on them skeeter bites, but seriously Rachel, is this something you want your future children to see? It's a student film. It's going to suck." They would have the same conversation a few more times, many years later, in the course of their relationship, when Rachel would be offered a part in a movie or a guest spot on cable television and she asks Santana if it's okay with her and if she should do it. Santana had always been on the fence on any kind of nudity, because it's already kind of weird to see her wife making out with some guy on screen, let alone see her naked on screen as well, but she appreciates that adult Rachel would even consult her about this before she makes a decision. Rachel already senses that as much as possible, Santana would like her _not_ to do those nude scenes, and so Rachel had made a promise that if it were a well-written story where the nudity is actually relevant to the plot then she might consider it. Once, she had told Santana that proof that Hollywood and the MPAA are prejudiced: movies that show breasts get a lower rating than say a full-frontal dick shot and that's why you'll see more actresses doing the breast thing rather than see the actors do the full frontal thing.

It's when awards season though that Rachel goes full-on ranting and raving about the double standards of beauty in Hollywood, because this is the time when she has to do the cleansing, the dieting, the workouts, the not-eating, the facials, the mani-pedis, the hair extensions, the being sewn into dresses, the taping up of breasts, the cinching in of waists and derrieres. Rachel would comment about how it's okay for old actors like Jack Nicholson to go untouched by plastic surgeons, whilst old actresses are not given the same kind of treatment or respect at all, and are usually the stuff of tabloids and gossip television and daytime and late-night talk shows and how weird it is that older actors, producers and directors' wives and girlfriends seem to get younger and younger whilst you don't see a lot of older actresses with younger husbands and boyfriends as well. Whilst Rachel isn't really like the huge movie and TV star that she is in on Broadway, she isn't immune to the kind of mean, snarky online comments people have about her face or her nose or her acting and on social networking sites, something that time and time again, would hurt Rachel, making her want to quit the business more than once since she'd quit a couple of years ago to teach in Brooklyn.

Santana doesn't really like showbiz herself. Brittany had worked in Hollywood herself and Santana had abhorred all the guys, the producers, the directors, the actors, the agents that all seemed to actively want to get into Brittany's pants even when she'd shown them her wedding ring and had adamantly told them she was not interested. In a way, Santana actually prefers New York now, more than California, well, more than Hollywood really. There's just something really unreal, surreal, fake about Hollywood, with the fake sets and the green screens and the too many beautiful and handsome people walking around with fake smiles and fake boobs and really creepy perfect bone structure. Everything just seems so _manufactured_.

And the one small thing that kind of held her back when it came to Rachel all those years ago, was not just because of Brittany, although a large part of it was that, but because of Rachel's profession, Rachel being an actress. And not just one of those really beautiful actresses that make a splash in a Jerry Bruckheimer or Michael Bay movie or a Nicholas Sparks book-to-movie adaptation and simply vanish never to be heard from again, but a character actress, one of those chameleon actresses who could cry on demand, switch accents, conjure up and switch emotions at a drop of a hat, create backstories for their characters from a line of dialogue, provide fake smiles for the paparazzi and provide publicist-approved safe, "Miss Universe" answers to gossip talk show hosts when promoting their movies or television shows and pretty much cultivate a manufactured image designed to make the audience relate to and fall in love, repeatedly, with the character, so various merchandise (should there be any) be sold. At first, Santana had been wary of Rachel, years could either harden you, or mellow you down, and she wasn't sure if this older, more incredibly sexy, unbelievably beautiful woman who has chosen Santana over the other attractive people in showbiz who like her, this woman Santana finds herself really attracted to, is the Rachel she had known in high school. But as it turns out, she needn't have worried. Rachel had been willing to give up her career in Broadway and in showbiz, really, to challenge herself, had given that up as well to try teaching in Brooklyn, to try finding herself, had even established her own non-profit organization and so Santana knows Rachel is a keeper. Maybe she's always known, she just needed a little push in the right direction.

The thing is, they may come from different worlds, Santana and Rachel, but they actually do have a lot more in common than they think and it is always a joy for Santana to come home during those times when she isn't doing overtime work or Rachel isn't shooting something or doing Broadway and they can sit down to a dinner recounting their lives to each other. Lately, Santana thinks Rachel seems to be enjoying this quasi-time off from work, puttering around the house like a cute, little housewife, cooking them their meals, cleaning up, doing other mundane tasks like vacuuming, ironing, or doing the laundry, especially when Tram, their Vietnamese housekeeper is not around, and she finds this endearing, although she wonders if Rachel is getting a bit tired of Broadway and Hollywood and showbiz in general.

But as the car gets to Greenburg Hill Gardens, Santana glimpses a happiness in Rachel she has never seen before as she helps Rachel with the groceries. As they make their way to their apartment, she kisses Rachel and Rachel smiles.

* * *

When they enter the apartment, it is quiet and empty.

"Where's Suzie?" Santana asks.

Rachel shrugs. "Out with Kate?"

Santana grins. "What say we see whether the strict librarian will be punishing the nurse with the sexy candy striper's outfit for forgetting to return 'Gray's Anatomy' and a host of other medical books."

"But, honey, I haven't kind of prepared anything…I need to…"

Santana rolls her eyes, steps forward and grabs her wife's arm. "Baby, come _on_. Let's just wing it."

"Wing it, oh, great, like that's going to be good," Rachel mumbles, although she lets Santana lead her out into the hallway and to the bottom of the stairs.

Santana laughs. "Baby, it's _always_ good."

They both go up the stairs, giggling and whispering, unable to keep their hands off each other and unable to stop kissing each other, but then when they get to the top of the landing, they hear a thud coming from Suzie's room.

Both Santana and Rachel stop. Rachel pulls away first and whispers, "What was that?"

"I thought Suzie was out?" Santana whispers.

Rachel shakes her head. "Yeah, I thought so too."

Then they hear a crash from Suzie's room.

Santana puts a finger to her lips, silently going to the closet and pulling out a baseball bat before she tip toes back to Suzie's door.

"Honey, I don't think anyone's broken in. Didn't you buy like the best burglar alarm this side of the coast?" Rachel whispers. "And shouldn't we be avoiding the danger, not rushing headlong to it? And I hardly think a baseball bat is the appropriate weapon for…"

Santana shushes her.

They hear louder thuds, some creaking, footsteps, and giggling as Santana approaches.

"I'm calling 911," Rachel says, whipping out her mobile phone as she does so.

Santana grips the knob and turns it and kicks the door open.

The two women freeze. Rachel clutches her phone, the voice on the other end of the line saying, "Hello, what's your emergency?" over and over again before she remembers to hang up the phone.

What they see is Suzie, topless, tanned naked back exposed for both of her mothers to see, on top of Kate, straddling Kate whilst kissing her, as they lay on Suzie's bed, a blanket mercifully covering both of them. Kate's hands are on Suzie's back and when the women enter, it is very apparent, from the rocking motion, and the moans and giggles emanating from both girls, that they have clearly interrupted a more than intimate moment between the two.

It is Kate who sees them first, when she hears the door open, and she pulls back and quickly grabs the blanket and covers herself with it, even as Suzie, seeing the expression on Kate's face, turns and sees both her mothers staring, jaw open, at them, speechless and shocked. She covers Kate with her body, and grabs the blanket to cover herself, before she says, "Mom! It's not what you think…!"

The two women stare at them, for a full minute, speechless, until Rachel grabs Santana's arm and gently pulls her out in the hallway, giving the girls a few minutes to get dressed and regain their composure.

"Wow, this is much worse than that time I found her with that friend of hers, naked while trying to get a cellphone signal," Rachel comments.

* * *

The family conference with Kate, later, in the living room, is all kinds of awkward and uncomfortable, akin to that time when Rachel and Santana finally decided to let Suzie find out about the birds and bees, which, in and of itself, was quite the experience, with Rachel's illustrations (a big unfertilized ova with sperms heading towards it), a video clip of a 'Family Guy' episode in which Stewie, one of the characters, is a sperm inside the womb, trying to get into the ovum and a very detailed chart in PowerPoint form that Santana could not decide whether Suzie understood or not. It had been Santana who had freaked out during that time. As Santana sits with her wife, watching their daughter carefully, who sits before them, quiet and embarrassed and terrified, head bowed, hands in her lap, unable to look at either parent, Santana feels a variety of indescribable emotions, maybe a growing irritation, maybe even anger, disappointment at their daughter. She is by no means a stranger to teenage dalliances in one's parents' house, but to have her own daughter do it now, and to have caught her doing it, in their house, makes Santana feel a bit betrayed, like their trust has been violated.

Taking a cue from Coach Sue now, Santana says, struggling to control her irritation, "Let me be the one to break the silence." She pauses. "That quite possibly is the worst thing you may have done in this household, Suzie."

Suzie looks down on the floor, face as red as anything, not saying anything. For once, she does not know what to say. Kate looks down on the floor as well, nervously runs an olive-skinned, slim hand on her shock of unruly, curly brown hair before she brings both hands back down clasped nervously in front of her, on her lap. Kate has also grown over the past summers, and is almost as tall as Santana. In fact, she has actually grown even more beautiful, almond-shaped eyes looking prettier, lush, full lips pressed in a tight line, cheekbones smooth and lovely. Plus Kate of course has always been one of the smartest in class. Santana really cannot blame Suzie for really liking this girl.

"In fact, that's probably the most disrespectful, most awful thing you may have done Suzie," Santana continues now.

Rachel notices that Santana's voice has raised a notch higher, so she reaches out her hand, touches Santana's elbow and says, "Honey, let's not overreact here." She turns to Suzie and Kate. "What your mom is saying is that, that was a bad thing to do. Especially after we all agreed you wouldn't do that here. Or anywhere else for that matter."

"Until you're at least eighteen or twenty one. And out of the house. I don't care what the age of consent is, as long as you're in this house, you will respect the rules of the house," Santana says sternly. "You know this will cost you a month's allowance, right?"

Suzie doesn't not speak and starts, instead to fidget with her jeans, a nervous habit she seems to have acquired from Rachel. Rachel sees a tear fall down from her cheek and stain her jeans wet.

They do not speak for a few minutes. Finally, Rachel speaks up.

"Suzie, Kate, we'd like to make it clear that although we really, really love you both, and we don't doubt that you really care for each other, we just think..." and here Rachel stops, pauses, searching her mind for something appropriate and not at all hurtful, to say to the two girls. Santana could almost see the gears in Rachel's mind turn as she looks off in the distance, hoping that would give her some inspiration. Then she sighs and says, "You might know the consequences of what being...intimate means. I mean that really screws up relationships you know?"

Suzie and Kate are still silent.

"And...we kind of trusted you both to respect our house enough not to do it here, and it does feel like you kind of went over the line with this," Rachel finishes. "We understand, we really understand why it happened, we just wished it didn't. And we hope it doesn't happen anymore in the future."

There are a few awkward moments again, after which Suzie is sent to her room and Kate is sent home.

Rachel and Santana sit on the couch not knowing what to say, before Rachel says, "I'll go check up on her."

Santana says. "Okay."

* * *

When Rachel finds Suzie, Suzie is hunched by the open window, looking out forlornly in the distance.

"Hey," Rachel says, softly, knocking on the door. "Can I come in?"

Suzie nods, without looking at her.

Rachel approaches Suzie. They are silent for a few minutes, before Suzie says, softly, "I'm in really serious trouble aren't I?"

Rachel is silent, before she reaches out, touches Suzie's arm so that Suzie looks at her and Rachel smiles, and says, "No, no you're not."

"Mom looks really mad," Suzie says. "And disappointed. Are you mad and disappointed at me, too?"

Rachel smiles reassuringly and shakes her head "no".

Suzie looks at her. "I'm sorry, Mom. I...we...we didn't mean it to go that far...we were kind of just fooling around...and I lost at 'strip poker' and..."

"Okay, way too much information, honey," Rachel says.

Suzie nods, and smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry. I know it was wrong. It's just...we thought...if we were going to lose our virginity...we might as well lose our virginity to each other..."

"Okay, seriously, that's just way too much information," Rachel says now, with a smile.

"Sorry," Suzie mutters. Then she hesitates, approaches Rachel and says, "You're really not mad?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Honey, disappointed maybe, but your mom and I...kind of understand teenage hormones. Although you know you're still grounded. And you're not supposed to do that ever again. At least until you're old enough to actually know the ramifications of being in a serious relationship. I mean are you even back together or what?"

Suzie shrugs and shakes her head. "I don't know. Kate tells me things could change. Maybe we'll end up together, maybe not. She says it's like apples and oranges. She says I should try apples too, because oranges are not the only fruit or something."

Rachel is silent. "She's kind of right, you know." When Suzie looks at her with a pained expression, Rachel says, "Honey, you're young, you're fifteen, you should go out and meet people, make friends, make new memories, enjoy your life, suck the marrow out of _life_, _live_! I realize Kate is like your first love and everything, but there's nothing wrong about checking out apples as well."

Suzie is silent, taking all of Rachel is saying in, as Rachel continues, "And there are other things you probably need to think about as well, Suzie. Like, maybe college?"

Suzie rolls her eyes now. "Aaaw, _Mom_!"

Rachel grins. "C'mon, listen to me for a sec, sweetie. You need to think about your future now."

"I'm _fifteen_, Mom. Can't I be allowed to have fun first?" Suzie asks. "You just told me I should, like, suck the marrow out of life…which…eeww, Mom. What does that even _mean_?"

Rachel laughs. "I know, I know. But you can't be like those kids who think about college like a couple of weeks before high school graduation, sweetie." As Suzie begins to groan in protest, Rachel says, "I mean, NYADA has a great dance program? And if you don't want to go to NYADA, you can always go to Juilliard? I mean your Mom actually prefers it. Or you could go to the New York School for the Arts or something. I mean, wow, you could be dancing for City Ballet any minute now! Or you could do modern, if you want. I mean modern freaks me out, and I don't understand it most of the time, but if you want that, that's fine with me."

"_Mom!_" Suzie whines. "You've been asking me to think about college since I was _twelve_. You're like, doing that stage mom thing again. It's really freaky. You're like totally wigging me out, like right now."

Rachel laughs before she says, "Sorry." She hugs Suzie again before she says, "Will you at least think about it? We will fully support you, of course, whatever you do, and obviously, you've made it clear you don't want to be a doctor, and we understand that, but…"

"Mom! Cut it out! Stage mom-ming! Stage mom-ming!" Suzie says.

Rachel laughs again. "Sorry. Got carried away."

Suzie rolls her eyes again, and they look out of the window in silence before Suzie speaks up. "You're Mom's apple, aren't you?"

"Huh? What?" Rachel asks.

"Apple. You're Mom's apple," Suzie says. "The apple of her eye. Or something."

Rachel smiles. "I guess I am."

Suzie grins, before she nods. Then she launches herself towards Rachel and hugs her. Then she pulls away and says, lightly, "Maybe next time I should make sure we never get caught."

"Yes, don't you ever lock your door?" Rachel says, pulling back whilst taking a look at Suzie and tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind Suzie's ear.

"You didn't knock," Suzie points out.

"Sorry. We thought we had a burglar," Rachel explains.

"Mom had that super crazy expensive burglar alarm installed. I doubt anyone would dare break in," Suzie says.

Rachel nods. "True." Rachel pulls Suzie towards her again and mumbles, "Ugh, you're growing up before our very eyes, you! It seemed like yesterday when I was giving you bubble baths and tucking you to bed and reading you bedtime stories and…now you're all grown-up and getting caught having sex with your girlfriend and stuff! Before we know it, you're going to get married and have babies of your own and stuff...or stay single or whatever...'cause that's also a valid choice..."

Suzie giggles before she tries to wriggle away from Rachel and whines, "Ugh, _Mom_!"

Rachel laughs, letting go of Suzie. She looks at their daughter now and says, "Well, did you at least get to second or third base with Kate?"

Suzie grins, the mischievous glint back in her eye. "Mom, I kind of hit a home run, and we were kind of just trying to see if we could go another round..."

Rachel looks at her in horror and says, "Ugh, seriously, way too much information. I seriously don't want to hear about your sex life, Suzie."

Suzie only laughs. "Mom will forgive me?"

Rachel nods before she smiles. "She'll come around."

Suzie grins. She hugs Rachel again before she pulls back, looks at Rachel and with a grin on her face, she says, "So, Mom, I just found out lesbians _accessorize_. In bed. Could you tell me more about this, Mom?"

Rachel feels herself blush so furiously it takes her a moment to recover as she stares, horrified, at Suzie. "I'm sorry, honey, that's just too weird, so I think I'm going to go with…'No' on this one. Just..._no_."

* * *

Later, in their bedroom, Santana and Rachel talk about what has happened.

Santana sighs and says, "My god the teenage years are awful. I wish I could _unremember_ the memory of seeing your naked daughter having sex with her girlfriend in our house."

Rachel only smiles, reaching out a hand and tugging at Santana. Santana comes willingly towards her and Rachel only hugs her, rubbing her hand on Santana's back. Santana places herself carefully on Rachel's chest, resting her palm on Rachel's stomach. They are silent for a few minutes. Then Santana speaks up.

"I suddenly have the urge to call my Mom and apologize for all the trouble I've put her through," Santana says, "And also to apologize for those times when she caught me making out with someone in the house."

Rachel laughs. "There was _more_ than one? I thought you only got caught with Brittany?"

Santana looks up, and smiles sheepishly. "Well, there was Quinn, too, sophomore year, but she wasn't really into that." When Rachel looks at her, Santana blushes and says, "Don't worry, she _really_ wasn't into that."

Rachel makes a face. "Is there anyone you _didn't_ make out with in high school?"

Santana grins. "Patches. And the janitor. And all the teachers. Anyone with a low credit rating. And a grade point average lower than three point zero. Finn was the exception. And anyway, making out is _not_ sex. And sex is _not_ dating."

Rachel laughs. "Whatever. I thought Quinn was with Finn. And she was President of the Celibacy Club."

"Yeah, but she also made out a lot with Finn and slept with Puck, so," Santana says. She looks at Rachel and says, "_Anyway_, why are we having another kid again?"

Rachel laughs. She engulfs Santana in a hug and says, "Because somebody said it's supposed to be a symbol of our love and devotion and commitment to each other or something."

Santana hugs her back. "Okay."

Rachel then grins at her and says, "So, how about we burn some more calories? You know I need to stay healthy for the baby."

Santana grins back. "Oooh, I like the sound of that!"

Rachel starts to giggle as Santana moves up and over and starts to kiss her, all thoughts of what has happened gone from their mind.

* * *

Summer comes and goes, then fall comes and everything goes well. As Rachel gets the hang of being pregnant, she finds a rhythm with her pregnancy, her professional and domestic life that she finds quite satisfying.

There have been slow shifts in Rachel's work life lately. A whole section of the industry she'd worked in is showing an interest in her, a fact that has thrilled Rachel to no end. Rachel had not realized it but she'd actually been making a quiet splash in the media, having found fans and advocates in a small niche run by independent women's media, more for her humanitarian work actually and how she has found a way to use her fame to talk about important issues, having brought attention to Arts Education funding, teenage minorities and the challenges they face and public education in general. In fact, lately, Rachel has been asked to speak at gatherings, and only last March, in celebration of Women's Month, she'd guested at a Women's event where Earth/Rights had also been a sponsor.

Santana likes that her world and Rachel's were slowly meeting in the middle. Rachel had also started gracing the cover and snagging interviews for print and online women's magazines - not like Cosmo or Glamour, but more the hard-hitting feminist magazines, really, than the commercial ones geared for the mainstream. Rachel sometimes gives herself little to no credit about how her work at Brooklyn had brought more attention to a lot of things minorities faced, but the fact of the matter is, she is slowly gaining a reputation as that feminist Broadway star and up-and-coming Hollywood actress who used what fame she had not just for more fame and fortune, but for the greater good. In a country where seeking fame and fortune at all costs is not a dream, but a vocation, Rachel Berry's choices and decisions about her career, her fame, everything else, is different, and therefore extraordinary.

One of the things that seems to be helping Music is Life is that Dave and Zee and the other kids had started an online video project, "Save the Music, Save the Future", where kids are encouraged to post videos of themselves talking about music and how it saved their lives. At first, a few kids had made videos of themselves, talking about mundane things, like how music helped them with their homework, or helped them snag the girl or the boy of their dreams, or helped them deal with the general stress of high school life, but then a couple of kids posted videos of themselves talking about how music had helped them deal with the bullying because they were different from the others, then a couple more talked about how music had helped them deal with being gay, with suicide, with finding out they were pregnant, with abuse, with violence, with the death of a loved one, and the number of videos and views started growing and more and more kids started to post their own videos, and then a few people Dave and Rachel knew, from Hollywood, first just writers, playwrights, a few technical people, then little-known actors and singers, then a few famous ones Dave and Rachel knew, Alanna Vergara, Alice Troy, Helen Cooper, made their own videos and posted them, and videos had been posted and reposted in social networking sites and the media picked it up (Got to love the media, Santana thinks) and the videos got the needed publicity until even politicians, and the President of the United States of America, who'd met Rachel a couple of years ago, had made her own video as well. Surprisingly, Music is Life regains attention and funders are taking interest again. Dave is planning a "Run for Music" marathon, a concert for a cause and had set up a fund-raising website with Mike and Sam, to make it easier for people and organizations to donate. Dave is looking at a making the Foundation self-sustaining so that it can pay for itself and he thinks if the kids have a sense of ownership for the Foundation, then perhaps they would help even more with the fundraising efforts of the Foundation.

Rachel had also started getting work voice acting, a nice gig she enjoys because it only ever involves her voice and the studio, and sometimes she also gets not only to voice the character, but to sing a song or two as well. She's already done voice work for the animated television shows over at Adult Swim:"South Sibs", "Cleveland Dad", "Bartman and Homer, Man" and a couple of anime television shows as well. She'd also done some minor voice work for the hit animated movie, "Kung Pow Chicken", a Claymation movie that hadn't done as well at the box office but had been critically acclaimed, being hailed as "poultry in motion" and slowly built a rabid cult following on the net. All of these had upped her cool geek factor in the eyes of Mike and Sam, who, now more than ever, find it really cool that one of their closest friends is a voice actor as well.

One day in the middle of fall, Rachel excitedly calls Santana and proudly informs her that she is being called to endorse for Cancer Society, GreenVision, WorldPeace, and a couple of commercial products. Like everything else, Rachel Berry, of course, has to think twice before saying yes to any endorsement deal. She of course does not do endorsements for companies that abuse its workers, use child laborers or use animals for testing, or otherwise have other questionable, unethical practices. She also doesn't accept endorsements for companies such as liquor or cigarettes owing to the fact that she has a family and she wouldn't want their daughter and their unborn baby to be encouraged by that. She also doesn't take endorsements from companies that notoriously objectify women to sell their products. Rachel would have already struck it really, really rich many years ago, had she actually just accepted everything that was offered to her, but she'd already decided a long time ago, just a few years just before she started dating Santana and even more so when she started dating Santana, that she had to draw the line somewhere, because she had wanted to be able to look at herself in the mirror and feel that there was still some semblance of herself in there, something that was still all hers, not clouded by money or fame. It's weird and ridiculous, Rachel tells her, but she wants to do it.

Everything could not be more perfect for Rachel and Santana, until they go to Dr. Westheimer one day for Rachel's routine ultrasound.

Dr. Westheimer is smiling at first, until she notices something on the screen. So she leans over, peers at the screen, takes off her glasses, squints at the screen, puts her glasses back on again, and mutters to herself, "That can't be right." She fiddles with the controls of the equipment, is quiet for a few moments, and Santana and Rachel look at each other, the worry and anxiety now slowly crawling up from Santana's gut. As Dr. Westheimer works in silence, occasionally muttering under her breath, expression alternately slightly confused and disbelieving, a sudden fear suddenly climbs up to Santana's chest, holding it tight, like cold fingers, making it hard for her to breathe.

Finally, when Dr. Westheimer is done fiddling with the equipment, she clears her throat, and says, "I think we have a problem..."

* * *

**_Author's end notes:_**

**_That's it for this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading and reviewing. As always reviews are welcome, are much appreciated and will go a long way in encouraging this writer (we need it!It really helps!). And yes, there are a few nods to lesbian movies here...and Julia Roberts. Because I totes think Santana Lopez would rock being a lawyer. :-) Also, many thanks to DragonsWillFly for going over this chap. As always. _:)**

**_Now, on to your comments -_**

**_To baxterj and aviran - Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. _;)**

_**To pictureofsuccess - Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing Chapter 3. Glad you enjoyed Rachel TMI-ing, the guys' banter and Suzie doing strip Counterstrike. **_**:)_ So sorry though about the chap making you feel feelings. :) I hope in a good way! Yes, I love io9! Hope you enjoyed this chapter too!_**

**_To parker88 - Hey! Glad you liked Chapter 3. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Thought a bit of a trip down memory lane was in order. Glad you loved the Dr. Westheimer description - half of the fun of this verse is coming up with characters that stay true to the original Glee feel. :) Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, too!_**

**_To kickangel - Hey, thanks for reading and reviewing Chapter 3. Yes, good, funny Glee is always the best kind of Glee! That's what I was going for with this verse. Yes, Mike and Sam ARE the most likable seriously. I also believe they totally geek out when they get together. _:)_ As for Suzie, you just know Suzie is up to something. :) Glad you found Pezberry all kinds of adorable, too! That's the only kind of Pezberry we love! As for Fat Amy - yes, that crystal meth line was hilarious! I think all her lines are funny! ;) Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, too!_**


	5. Pt 1: Fever Pitch

_**Author's note: Dear readers, Chapter 5 is here. Enjoy! **_

* * *

Breech.

A breech pregnancy.

Which…what did that even _mean_?

Santana had wondered over and over again as she sat listening to Dr. Westheimer drone on and on about the baby in Rachel's womb. There are things that Dr. Westheimer say that make Santana's mind whirl in confusion, how the baby is not quite in the right position as she should be, how she's not head down as she should be, and the resulting position she has right now might inadvertently pose possible immediate danger to herself and Rachel, with risks of premature birth, oxygen deprivation, neurological damage, even death for the baby. There is also mention of Rachel's size, how her diminutive size, particularly that of her pelvis, may spell the difference between successful normal delivery or not. Dr. Westheimer starts talking about possible options, says the possibility of a home birth will have to be reconsidered, perhaps maybe even scrapped, in light of the new turn of events revealed by Rachel's new ultrasound. Santana feels Rachel reach for her hand, grips Santana's hand, Rachel's hand clammy against her own. Santana can feel Rachel's anxiety, nervousness through that one simple gesture, as Dr. Westheimer proceeds to tell them about options, the possibility of an ECV to nudge the baby around in the abdomen around term so that Rachel would give birth the natural way like she wanted. "Although at this point, _vee_ cannot rule out _zee_ possibility of Ceasarian," Dr. Westheimer says gently to the couple, looking at them sympathetically through her brisk, professional demeanor. Dr. Westheimer is well aware of how difficult it has been for Rachel to have conceived, and for them to face this possibility now, especially for Rachel, who is a first-time mother, is possibly nerve-wracking, so Dr. Westheimer rushes to reassure the couple, saying that with all the technological advances at their disposal, the challenges they face now will be as a dream, after all, even without an ECV, there is a chance that the baby's head will still slowly nudge its way down right before term and they might not even _need_ to do the ECV. She explains that numerous studies have shown a forty to seventy percent success rate (Dr. Westheimer tries to be as honest as possible, always wanting to be honest about the risks and the chances her patients face with each medical procedure or decision they make) for ECVs and that should there be any more problems, a Ceasarian would most certainly reduce the risk of danger to the unborn child and to Rachel, although she says having a Ceasarian section obviously poses long-term health risks to the mother. "As much as possible I _vant_ you to give birth the natural way, Rachel, it is much healthier in the long run for you, but with these new developments, _vee_ have to consider all possibilities," Dr. Westheimer continues.

Santana does not know how long they stay in Dr. Westheimer's office. Dr. Westheimer had been surprisingly sympathetic but reassuring, realistic and straightforward, but always optimistic and positive and judging from how Rachel's grip had relaxed from Santana's hands, Santana had realized Dr. Westheimer's assurances had assuaged Rachel's concerns, Rachel's anxieties.

Santana is distracted though. As they go home to Brooklyn, Santana drives in silence and Rachel lets her, the silence in the car drowned out by music playing from the car stereo. Santana doesn't even notice that they are playing Rachel's Broadway playlist. What she does realize is she almost misses the oncoming car at the traffic intersection but she quickly and deftly applies the brakes at the last minute, and realizes then just how much this news has affected her.

It shouldn't really.

Santana knows this. Dr. Westheimer had repeatedly assured them it was going to be fine, nothing a little procedure can correct, emphasizing only the need for Rachel to increase her visits to her, especially now that she is only at least a couple of months or so away from giving birth, and with the new added complication in the way. Santana knows she shouldn't really fret so much, shouldn't feel those cold fingers of fear slowly crawling up her gut, up to her chest, and on up to her throat, making it difficult for her to breathe, but she can't help it. All she can think of is Brittany. Brittany giving birth to Suzie. How scary that all was. How she'd come close to losing both Brittany and Suzie then. How she'd eventually lost Brittany. As she concentrates on the traffic before her, she notices how everything outside, from the falling autumn leaves, the gray sky above, the passing cars, the passing people bundled up in autumn coats and scarves, seem to go around so indifferently, the world turning around so indifferently, so callously, there is this cold rage that comes with the fear, this rage that begins to ache beneath her chest and all she wants to do is scream, punch someone, go up the highest building or mountain and scream to the high heavens, "Why? Why me? Why now? _Why?_" Because, seriously, this is unfair. This is all so _fucking_ unfair. Because just when she had already gotten used to the idea of being a mother again, of facing the risks of this pregnancy, just when she starts to feel like she can hope, that she can actually enjoy this hard-earned happiness they have, _this_ has to happen. And it's all so unfair. She wants to look for someone to blame, but she cannot and the rage, coiled so tightly in her chest, threatens to unleash itself at any unsuspecting object.

"San…"

"_What?!_" Santana snaps, whipping her head around to look at Rachel, annoyed Rachel would interrupt her thoughts, because now it reminds her that Rachel just _had_ to go and get pregnant and now she might lose Rachel or the baby, or both and she wants to be angry at Rachel, blame her for this, but Rachel has already flinched at Santana's tone, her body literally moving back, as if she has been physically hit and Santana immediately feels guilty. Santana tries again, voice a bit softer this time. "Sorry, what?"

Rachel points uncertainly to Santana's hands, then to the traffic lights, and Santana realizes that her knuckles have turned white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, and that the traffic light has turned green and cars from behind are getting impatient, occasional horns blaring expressing the drivers' impatience at this. Santana resists the urge to get out and grab the nearest driver and punch him in the face - the thought of doing so immediately makes Santana feel like she will enjoy that, except for the assault charges she will have to face after and so she takes a deep breath, shifts gears and accelerates down the road.

* * *

They get home in no time, with no incident, Santana silently heading to her office to work on some documents, whilst Rachel heads to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Suzie arrives a little while later, and the dinner after, is silent and awkward and so glaringly different from previous noisy dinners at the Berry Lopez household, where the couple will almost always be bickering or arguing over something, with Suzie heartily joining in, that Suzie surreptitiously looks from one mother to the other, afraid to speak, as she rushes through her dinner, mumbles permission to be excused and Rachel, sighing, nods at her. Suzie smiles gratefully at her, before she takes her plate to the kitchen sink, rinses it and heads up to her bedroom, presumably to study and do her homework, and perhaps do a little online RPG gaming on the side.

The couple finishes their dinner and when Santana makes to gather the plates, Rachel shakes her head and says, "I'll do it."

Santana only looks at her, asks her, "You sure?" and when Rachel only nods, Santana mumbles a "thank-you" and says, "I'm going to take a shower."

There, in the comfort and safety and solitude of the bathroom, with hot water dribbling all over her naked, olive skin, Santana stands, both hands spread wide and pressed, on the tile wall in front of her, as she lets hot water flow down her body, lets the steam rise and engulf her, lets the water wash away the day's sweat and grime and exhaustion and possibly the stress and fears and anxiety away. And in the middle of it all, the tears come, mingling with the water, and as she continues to stand there, letting the water wash over her, her body starts to convulse in sobs. _What is wrong with me?_ she angrily asks herself, vainly wiping away the tears, telling herself she's overreacting over this. It's not any of the million and one scenarios or actual life-threatening situations that could actually happen. The baby's still healthy. It's not stillborn. All its parts, based on the ultrasound, all seem present and accounted for. It's not an ectopic pregnancy. Rachel's still healthy. It could have been worse. But it's not. So why is she freaking out again like she's freaking out now?

She takes deep, calming breaths, to steady herself as she runs a slim, tan hand on her dark hair. She stands like this for a few seconds, under the hot shower, and does not even notice Rachel coming in until Rachel's hand snake around her waist and Santana is momentarily surprised as she turns her head and sees her wife, as naked as she is, stepping under the hot shower, as well. Santana only smiles, hand coming up to cover Rachel's, and Rachel smiles back, tightens her hold around Santana, as if trying to convey something from this simple gesture. The grip is tight, strong, almost determined, and Santana takes a deep breath, turns around and holds Rachel properly, their bodies molding into each other so perfectly as Santana rests her chin on Rachel's shoulder and holds Rachel more firmly. They stay like this, holding each other under the shower, for a long time, until Rachel pulls back, searches through Santana's face, before her gaze drops to Santana's lips and she leans up and forward catching Santana's lips in a gentle, reassuring kiss.

Later, when they sleep, Rachel holds Santana tightly, never letting her go until sleep claims her, Rachel rubbing her hand reassuringly along Santana's back as Santana closes her eyes in sleep and she whispers, in Santana's ear, "I love you."

* * *

Rachel Berry had never thought of herself as strong.

Through the half-nightmare, half-dream that was high school, the torture that was NYADA, the struggle that was trying to make it on Broadway, and later, in Hollywood, she hadn't really thought of herself as strong, maybe just overly ambitious and a bit of a diva, and just overall annoying and blind to what others really thought of her. Oh, sure, people bullied her and made fun of her brains or her looks (her nose is always a constant source of jokes even up to now, on internet comment sections that would review movies or television shows she is in) or her singing (which some people think too over-the-top, annoyingly Broadway for their mainstream, pop tastes) or her acting (which many thing is too overly theatrical to be taken too seriously on movies and in television shows) but she had been buoyed by dreams, dreams of success and of one day walking all over the self-same people who had made fun of her all throughout high school, and college and her early, struggling artist years.

But that day, when she and Santana had visited Dr. Westheimer for her routine ultrasound, when she'd found out the baby's position had not been the normal way it should be, she'd instinctively known this would be harder for Santana than it would be for her, even though Dr. Westheimer had assured and would repeatedly assure them that she and the baby will be fine. And it is then she realizes she needs to be strong, for both of them. She knows this because though Santana does not talk much about Brittany (and even during those first few years they were together, Santana had talked about Brittany in terms of who she was, what she liked, what she disliked, how she was as a person, more than the kind of difficulties Santana had faced during Brittany's illness and death) Rachel already senses Santana's fears, more palpable now than it was before, through the silence and sullenness and the distractedness and easy irritation Santana had displayed right after their visit. Rachel knows that the complications surrounding Rachel's pregnancy is opening up scars that may have healed, wounds that took years to heal, wounds that involved watching her first love waste away ever slowly on her death bed before finally dying, but Rachel already knows her situation is nothing like what Santana had gone through with Santana and she wants to assure her that it's going to be fine, but she doesn't know where to start. Doesn't know how to do it. Because as is typical with Santana, when confronted with something emotionally intense, Santana's typical response is to retreat into herself, into the comfort of silence and Rachel already knows no amount of trying to bring up the subject will let Santana talk about it with her. Rachel knows these things take time, and Santana will talk when it is time. And so Rachel chooses to wait, waits for Santana to bring it up, tries to show Santana everything is going to be fine, that she need not worry about losing Rachel or the baby, with every touch, every word, every look she brings Santana her way. She doesn't know if Santana gets it, or understands. She hopes Santana realizes that everything is gong to be fine, she has repeatedly assured her it was going to be fine, but she isn't sure if Santana gets it. And though Santana shows up for the birthing classes (she remarks that it's a bit pointless if Rachel is going to have a Ceasarian section anyway), the doctor's appointments, those last-minute shopping and checking that everything is in order before Rachel gives birth, Rachel senses this fear and resignation, this anxiety and worry, that Santana has for Rachel. There is also the added tricky situation of Santana suddenly and conveniently been busy, with work. December seems to be a busy month for work for Santana what with those anti-gender violence, AIDS and human rights campaigns and conferences she attends, end-of-the-year meetings with the New York and California offices, legal and consultancy services to provide for her firm's partners and cases to still attend to. And with Rachel still busy with the Foundation and her work, they don't seem to have the time to talk to each other. And at night, alone, when Santana has to work overtime, at the office, or downstairs, in her own office, Rachel lies awake in their bedroom, thinking about these things, wishing things would get better, wishing things would be alright for Santana.

* * *

A few days before Christmas, Rachel and Suzie go home to Lima for Hannukah with the Berrys and Christmas with the Lopezes. Rachel now sits alone in the Lopez kitchen watching snowflakes drift outside the kitchen window. Winter comes early this year and the landscape outside, like the many winters in the past, is covered in snow, giving it a pristine, pure look, but which also gives Rachel a depressing, lonely backdrop of whiteness and emptiness, of leafless branches blowing in the harsh winter wind and dark, gray skies. The weather report is predicting a snowstorm later in the night, and Rachel isn't really relishing being alone again for yet another night, without Santana. She'd debated going to her fathers whilst Santana is away, but it seemed weird to leave the in-laws and Suzie alone in the Lopez house and so she had stayed. Besides, the Lopezes wouldn't really let her go anyway, in her very pregnant condition. Besides, her fathers are probably out, playing bingo, or more specifically, _cheating_ at bingo at the old folks' home in the outskirts of the city, a tradition they'd been doing for the past few years. Sometimes, they manage, for some strange reason, to drag the Lopezes to those bingo nights and she'd actually found out that the Lopezes and Berrys now sometimes have mahjong night as well - a very strange, but not altogether unwelcome turn of events considering how the Berrys had been wary and skeptical of Santana and her family.

Santana is still in Washington, and Suzie is out hanging out with Carlitos and some other friends at some party. Dr. Lopez is still at work, Mrs. Lopez is out with some _amigas_, Carlos is out-of-town, _Tia_ Evita and Santana's _Abuela_ will only be home just before _Noche Buena_, so it is only Rachel, alone in the kitchen, sipping some herbal tea to keep herself warm, despite the warmth of the room.

At first she finds herself enjoying the silence, but as the afternoon wears on, she feels a loneliness, a sense of overwhelming sadness settles in, with her wife still in Washington, and everyone else out. It's becoming a trend, Rachel always seeming to find herself all alone like this. In fact, she'd celebrated their eighth year anniversary alone. They'd gotten together eight years ago to this month and Rachel feels melancholic and nostalgic remembering the first time they were together. She feels this vague annoyance, and a certain sadness that Santana had missed their anniversary, _again_ and in fact _forgot_ about it _again_.

She knows she shouldn't indulge herself in self-pity, but she feels her lower lip tremble, feels the tears well up, and she tries to take a deep, shaky breath and exhales slowly. She puts her right hand on the gentle swell of her belly, rubs her belly gently and whispers, "At least I still have you, baby, don't I?" The baby seems to hear her and kicks against her hand. Rachel's heart skips. Ever since the baby started kicking Rachel gets excited, in fact, she can't wait to see her, this little being that has taken up residence in her womb for the past eight months. It comforts her, knowing the baby is alive and well, and from the looks of it, feisty and energetic. Dr. Westheimer was against her actually leaving New York, and so close to her due date. Santana had been against it as well, and they had actually argued before Santana had gone to Washington and Rachel and Suzie had gone home to Lima. Though she had promised Dr. Westheimer she would keep in touch with her, and would, as soon as she sets foot on Lima, get in touch with an OB-GYN (which she had, as soon as she landed in Lima) and had reassured Santana she would be fine, Santana had been beside herself, had thrown up her arms in the middle of their argument and had exclaimed, "Ugh, Rachel sometimes you're just fucking infuriating!" before she walks out on her and locks herself down in her office, sleeping in her office and not talking to her for a couple of days. The thing was Rachel had wanted to get away from the stress and hustle and bustle of New York, the work, the fundraising, everything else. She'd promised Dr. Westheimer she would try to avoid as much stress as she can, because any intense situation could induce premature labor and everything in her life now, despite her best efforts, are stressing her out: work, being pregnant itself, Santana and her relationship with Santana. Besides, even though Ohio would be equally or even colder than New York, she had wanted to go because she had wanted to be with family and friends for the holidays.

They had actually parted ways without having resolved anything, one of the things that Rachel hates, but there had also been Santana's work and Rachel and Suzie had needed to go home for the holidays and she hates that it has stretched on as it has, like this, without either woman having been able to talk about it but maybe being away from each other for a while would be good for them as well. Except she really misses Santana, really, really misses Santana and wishes she is here right now and she could hold Rachel and whisper that everything is going to be alright, everything's going to be fine, because Rachel's been feeling alone and lonely and vulnerable and just emotional and her emotion's just all over the place and she is realizing that she is never been more sure that the only thing that calms her is Santana Lopez, Santana smiling and laughing and holding her and telling her she loves her. Rachel tries to fight down the sadness, takes a deep breath as she takes a sip of her tea.

She puts her hand on the small of her back and rubs her back methodically. She has been experiencing intermittent back pains as her belly grew bigger, but lately, the pains have become more regular. Her ankles are swollen to unbelievable proportions (at least to her eyes anyway) and she feels even more exhausted all the time. The backaches, exhaustion, the baby kicking all the time these days and the overall general discomfort associated with pregnancy, coupled with the stress of work, trying to cope with Santana and her own issues, their disagreement and Santana's absence by her side, is making her even more stressed and anxious.

* * *

Santana looks out of the airplane window, as the airplane slowly circles the Ohio airport, dipping ever so slowly as it gets ready to land. The flight attendant is asking everyone now to put their seats in the upright position, stow bags, laptops and everything else under their chairs in front or in back of their seats, fasten their seat belts, but Santana isn't listening. She's looking out of the airplane window, looking at the dark clouds covering Ohio, excited to get off the plane and rush home to see her wife, her kids (yes, even the unborn one) and the rest of her family. She had been worried the looming snowstorm would outrun them, or ground them at the airport, but thankfully the airplane had been able to beat the snowstorm to Ohio and now they are preparing to land.

She'd been in Washington the past couple of days and had had to go back to New York to attend to some other business. It has been a busy couple of months for her and the past few weeks, the past couple of days had been no different, a couple of meetings with some non-profits, some lobby groups, a couple of people from Congress about some environmental and human rights issues and she's glad everything is sorted. Wolfram, one of the senior partners at their firm, Wolfram, Blitz, Morgan and Chase, is busy working on a case with Native Americans from four different states (Michigan, Louisiana, California and Mississippi). She hadn't been sure she could get an earlier flight to Ohio with the holiday rush, but Johnson had been able to help her get an earlier flight, had called in a favor with a friend of a friend of a friend, one of the things that Johnson and his numerals can sometimes be good for and the fact that she would owe the man a favor in the future (he was notorious for crazy favors) didn't faze her in the least.

She itches to check her laptop, or her mobile phone, but they've already started their descent and airlines have a thing about all electronic equipment being turned off before takeoff and before landing so she has to wait a few more minutes before she is able to contact her wife. She hasn't been able to contact Rachel the past few days, Rachel has been offline on Skype, and the few times they've talked on the phone has been strained, awkward, with the nameless, undiscussed topic between them looming like an ominous, dark cloud. She'd only been able to talk to Quinn all this time, on Skype, and although her best friend had made a point of saying she's getting sick and tired of Santana bothering her at all times of the day and night whenever she has problems, she knows Quinn doesn't really mind, although Quinn had said, quite drily, "I think it's sad how incapable you are of talking to your wife about whatever's bothering you". The other one she talks to these days is Dr. Spacey. She'd thought she was done with the shrink, but the new developments and her response to it had made it imperative that she talk to the woman, process these things, work through her own anxieties, before this gets any worse and it affects her relationship with Rachel on a fundamental, irrevocable way. Having been unable to talk to Rachel makes Santana feel sad. She misses her wife, misses everything about her, her warmth, her touch, her smile, those cute little "post-its of loves" she slips into Santana's briefcase, even misses her charts and schedules and her increasingly regular and even more frequent trivia spouting. The talk with Dr. Spacey, in person, and sometimes, on the phone, has done her a lot of good, and she realizes she need not have worried. AS Dr. Spacey and Quinn have said, she is worrying about things that may perhaps never happen, worries about things needlessly and the best she could do is just accept things and support her wife. Not the most profound insight or advice she has ever received, but for the purposes of what she is going through, very simple, succinct and maybe just what she needs. She realizes she and Rachel are celebrating their eight year anniversary and perhaps she should actually be in the moment, forget the past, or the future, and just be there for her wife. With this new resolve in hand, she grips the arm rests of her chair as the airplane dips down on the airport.

* * *

Rachel is watching the snowflakes outside the kitchen window when she hears the doorbell ring. She wonders who it is. Sam has said he is going to drop by but she hadn't known when that will be. She picks herself up slowly from the chair, and goes to the front door, peeping first and seeing that it is Dave Karofsky. She opens the door.

"Dave! Hey, what's up?" Rachel greets him, shivering in the afternoon December cold when she opens the door and sees the tall, formidable frame of Dave Karofsky shivering in a thick, beige sheepskin jacket and jeans, clean shaven face all smiles at her, holding a box of Krispy Kreme in one hand and pizza on the other. Dave is more Santana's friend than hers, and she knows Dave already knows Santana is away for work, puzzling her even more that Dave would come by for a visit right now. She hadn't even known Dave was coming home to Lima for the holidays.

"Hey, Rachel," Dave says, grinning. "Sorry to just pop in like this, can I come in? Freezing my ass off out here. Got pepperoni pizza for you. I'd have bought you coffee, or ice cream, but it's cold and you don't drink coffee now that you're pregnant, so. But bought you _pristinely_ glazed donuts, too. Just like you wanted."

A flurry of snow blows into the hallway as Rachel laughs, steps aside and gestures for Dave to come in.

"Where's Kurt?" Rachel asks.

Dave says, "At work. Coming home anytime soon now. His flight is delayed or something. You know how the holiday rush is."

Rachel knits her eyebrows as she shuts the door closed and follows Dave to the kitchen. "Thought you guys weren't coming home for Christmas?"

Dave shrugs. "Haven't been to Lima since forever. Kurt made me come home. Burt isn't too happy about us being together, but yeah…"

Rachel nods, unable to say anything. As they settle down on the kitchen counter and Dave starts to open the box of Krispy Kreme for them both. As Rachel watches Dave, she resists the urge to ask him what he is doing here. He has actually texted her before he came over, but has gotten Kurt's awful habit of texting _only_ a few minutes before actually arriving on their doorstep, so it has not really given Rachel a chance to compose herself or even condition herself for an unexpected visit from Kurt's boyfriend. When he catches Rachel staring at him, he only grins at Rachel and pushes the box of donuts nearer to her.

"Come on, you know you want to," Dave says with a grin.

Rachel only stares at him, still wondering why he is here, unless Kurt has blabbed to him about the stress and strain of the pregnancy taking its toll on her, especially since Santana just seems determined to retreat into herself these days. An embarrassed flush starts to climb up her throat and on to her face, realizing that that may just be exactly what Kurt has done, Kurt, whom she had confided to about the pregnancy, Kurt, who had listened sympathetically, wanting to help, but at a loss for words, only reaching out his long, pale hands, covering Rachel's own, as they sat opposite each other at a Brooklyn park bench, cherry blossoms falling all around them, autumn breeze blowing all around them. They had sat in silence, as Rachel struggled to control her emotions. She wasn't worried about her pregnancy, these last few months had made her feel so at peace, so happy, so together, like the universe has suddenly come together, has revealed something to her, something primeval and profound, a new purpose for living, the secret of life and existence and happiness, through the life growing in her and she had already decided before she had seen the first ultrasound, and even more during the first ultrasound, that she is going to and will forever love this life still growing within her, because of that overwhelming, amazing pure wonder that she would be even given this chance to have life be created and grow within her. No. She was more concerned about how this latest news is putting a strain on Santana and more importantly, their relationship. She knows it wasn't the first thing that had freaked Santana out. The news of the pregnancy itself, last spring, had freaked Santana out, too and they had not talked about it, and there were so many things to take care of and they probably both hoped that the problem would go away, but now this new challenge has come up and Rachel is at a loss to assure Santana that everything will be alright. She could vaguely pinpoint where Santana's anxiety is coming from, and yet, she is a little afraid to confront Santana about it, knowing Santana might just go on the defensive and it might result in a fight. Kurt had sat beside her, listening to her, only nodding, completely sympathetic to her plight. He had offered no opinion, no judgment, no advice. And when she had let everything out, Kurt had just quietly put out an arm and pulled Rachel closer, held her, arm around her shoulder, and they stayed like that till it was too cold and too dark and perhaps too dangerous to actually stay out on a bench in a Brooklyn park. Rachel is grateful for that, for Kurt's friendship.

Kurt is busy with work, fashion apparently does not sleep, even in December, but he checks on his best friend once in a while, and now Rachel recalls that she has mentioned to him that Santana is off to Washington on business.

Dave though does not mention this, and offers no explanation, choosing instead to just enjoy this newly discovered camaraderie he has struck with his former and only high school girlfriend's (well, beard really) _wife_. When he catches her looking at him, Dave only grins and shrugs. Then he hears the doorbell ring and he says, "I'll get it."

When he comes back, he has Mike and Jeffrey following him from behind. Jeffrey is carrying a napping Aidan. Dave says, "Hey, Rachel's here with me."

"Hey, Rachel!" both Jeffrey and Mike say, grinning at her. "Got you food!"

"Hey, you guys," Rachel says, smiling. "Where's Tina and Quinn? Where are your kids, Mike? I didn't even know you guys would be home for the holidays!"

"Quinn's at the restaurant. She's coming by later. Business is a bit slow so I think we might close up early today, or leave the place for Merlotte to look after or something," Jeffrey says. "I'm on Aidan duty right now. Nothing's happening at home, so when Mike and Sam told me they were coming by to visit you, I thought I'd tag along. I hope you don't mind."

He says this last part with a grin and Rachel can't help but grin back, nodding. He goes to the living room to let Aidan sleep on the couch and comes back to chat with the others.

"Tina's back in California, _working_," Mike says. "The kids are with her. They don't particularly like Ohio winters, so. Plus, they're on this new thing called puberty. It's pretty great! It means the kids go off and brood and get angsty and hang out with their - " and here Mike puts up his fingers and do air quotes "- _friends_. It's awesome."

"And Mercedes?" Rachel asks.

"You know how crazy Mercedes' schedule is," Mike says. "Apparently, every song needs her chocolate thunder."

"And Sam?" Rachel asks.

Both shrug at the webcam. "Dunno," Mike says. "Playing Mass Effect? Playing with himself? Sorry, playing _by_ himself? _Sublimating_ all that pent-up sexual frustration? Doing all at the same time?"

"Ugh, gross, Mike," Rachel says, making a face, "I seriously didn't need to know that."

"He'll be here soon, I expect. Flight must have been delayed." Mike says with delight as both he and Jeffrey laugh. "Or maybe he's trying to pick up some drag queen at the airport."

"Speaking of puberty…" Jeffrey says now. "I can't wait for those years!"

Rachel smiles as the two erupt in laughter.

"But wait, what am I talking about? You have your own teenager!" Jeffrey says. "Where's Suzie?"

"Hanging out with Carlitos and his friends, hopefully staying out of trouble, might be coming home soon," Rachel replies with a smile.

Dave leans over and with a grin, says, "Need me to scare any of those friends of hers who freak you out?"

"Oooh, I'd love to see that!" Mike pipes in, rubbing his hands together.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Yes, 'cause last time you did that, you stuck her friend John on top of a door."

Mike and Jeffrey laugh as Dave smiles sheepishly. "He was going all weird on Suzie. He made Suzie upset."

"So the logical thing to do was lift him by his belt hoops and hook him by the door of the bathroom?" Rachel asks.

Mike and Jeffrey laugh even more.

"That is awesome! Glad Dave found a better use for his specific skills set than bully high school kids. Oh, wait, he's _still_ bullying high school kids!" Mike says.

"But all for a good cause!" Jeffrey says.

"Well, while I appreciate you protecting Suzie from those bullies, I'd appreciate you using less…aggressive methods," Rachel says.

Dave grins. "Sorry."

"So, how's the baby?" Mike asks. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Rachel answers, non-committally.

The three wait with bated breath as they wait for more information, but when none is forthcoming, Mike rolls his eyes and says, "Come on, we've noticed you haven't been giving us your email updates, so we know something's up anyway. We figure it's because of that cervical mucus intervention we did a while back, but we already know it's not. I mean, okay, Kurt and Quinn _may_ have told us a few deliberately vague details, but we know you're _not_ okay, okay? Besides, Santana isn't here, _yet_, so. So, yeah, we're checking up on you, okay? So, come on, Rachel, tell Uncle Mike what's been troubling you, spare us no details."

Both Jeffrey and Dave nod.

"Although, really, I'm just here to provide moral support, and to represent Quinn," Jeffrey says, grinning.

Rachel smiles, visibly touched by the efforts Mike, Jeffrey and Dave are doing, although there is an ache in her chest, realizing that Santana had been able to talk about their situation to Quinn and not to her, her _wife_, of all people. A sadness settles on Rachel like a cloak. She tries to blink the tears from her eyes. She shakes her head "No."

Mike sighs. "Rachel, we actually don't mind you TMI-ing right about now."

Rachel still shakes her head.

"Aaaw, we kind of miss inappropriate Rachel," Mike says, grinning. When Rachel does not say anything in reply, Mike rolls his eyes and says, "Fine, if you're not going to say anything, I'm going first. So, Rachel, you're a girl right?"

Rachel grins. "Last time I checked."

"So maybe you can tell us why girls act the way they do," Mike says. "I mean, ugh, I know I'm probably not the most red-hot of lovers, and Tina and I have been together since junior year in high school at least, but lately we haven't been having sex and…And just the other day, Tina kind of says, 'I'm _so_ not turned on by you right now' and how she's not attracted me anymore, or my six-pack abs…"

"Here we go…" Jeffrey says, making a face.

"That seems really inappropriate," Dave comments. "Like Coach Sue Sylvester slash Mr. Schue levels of inappropriate."

"Why would she say she's not turned on by you, you think?" Jeffrey asks.

"You didn't fart in front of her, did you?" Dave asks. "Because, dude, if you were my boyfriend, I'd be saying the same thing…"

Mike rolls his eyes at Dave and says, "Whatever, dude. That's why you're not my boyfriend." Then he stops, looks at them guiltily and admits, "Although, I belched. Kind of. Although I think there's nothing wrong with farting in front of her, too…And Tina just keeps going on and on about how the spark is gone, the magic is gone, and how she needs her romance, her excitement and stuff."

Jeffrey and Dave nod at him sympathetically.

"Dude, that's because I heard you kind of, gave her an anniversary card that read, '_I still love you, please see last year's anniversary card for details_'," Jeffrey points out.

"Ugh, that was a joke, man," Mike says. "Seriously, we've been together almost twenty years now. There really isn't much excitement there already. It's just…Tina."

"Dude, that's the problem," Jeffrey says. "Maybe she feels you're taking her for granted or something, man."

Mike looks at the webcam. "You're one to talk, Jeff. You're married to one of the craziest people we know."

"I…" Jeffrey begins, about to defend himself, before sighing and saying, "You're right. Today she kind of snapped at me. Told me I'm wrong, she's right, I'm dumb, she's smart."

Mike and Dave laugh as Rachel smiles.

Jeffrey continues, "Although I think that's mostly because she's got her period and she's usually hell when she has her period."

"Dude, in case you haven't noticed she's usually like that even _without_ her period," Mike says, smirking.

Jeffrey laughs. "Yeah, but strangely enough, I adore her."

Mike makes a face. "Ugh, gross." He then continues, "But enough about that. This is about me."

"I thought this was about Rachel," Dave says.

"Excuse me, can we talk about me for a sec?" Mike says in such an offended tone it makes Rachel smile. There's something vaguely comical about the normally affable Mike looking offended by something. "Anyway, I don't think it's me taking her for granted. Although there might be some validity to your assumption. No. It's not that. I think…the mid-life crisis came early this year. I think that's supposed to come at least in about five years or so."

"How so?" Jeffrey asks, leaning closer like a middle-aged woman hungry for gossip.

Mike shrugs. "I don't know. Lately she's kind of like, suddenly interested in her Asian heritage, and she's been taking Korean language lessons, and joining clubs and she's been talking about visiting Korea and I'm like, I don't even know where to begin, man."

Rachel, Jeffrey and Dave listen as he says, "I don't know, man. I think it started when she started having these conversations with my mom and mom was telling Tina about my own grandmother's experience, like being in an internment camp and everything and one thing led to another, and before you know it, she's suddenly interested to know more about Korea."

"Don't Koreans hate the Japanese?" Jeffrey asks.

Mike nods. "Yeah. Not all of 'em, but yeah. Like the Chinese hate the Japanese, too. So yeah, my parents' love story was quite the against-all-odds-Romeo-and-Juliet type of thing. So when my mom started telling my grandmother's story to Tina, Tina told me how inadequate she felt, not knowing about all these things and how our kids don't even speak Korean or Chinese or anything and how they only speak American and…and I don't know…"

"Well, weren't you like that, too?" Jeffrey asks. "I mean, my mom's Japanese, same as yours, dude, I always felt like I lived in two worlds growing up. I looked white and I'm blond, so I can pass for a white kid and I kind of escaped most of the bullying they do to Asian kids, but white kids think I'm too weird and too Asian to be white, especially when I start speaking Japanese and the Asian kids think I'm too white to be Asian and like, I speak Japanese like a white person. Meanwhile, I think to myself, I'm just Jeffrey, you know? Jeffrey Takeshi Murray."

"Dude, Takeshi's your middle name?" Mike asks. When Jeffrey nods, Mike says, "That's weird."

"Yeah, but it's kind of cool. And isn't Tina adopted or something? I mean, the mid-life crisis probably comes from her also wanting to know her roots, too man. I mean, wasn't there some Asian proverb about knowing where you came from to know where you're going or something?"

"Yeah, but she was a baby when she was adopted, she has no memory of Korea at all, or her birth parents or whatever," Mike says.

"Well, even more so," Jeffrey says. Jeffrey shrugs. "I'm probably oversimplifying it, but yeah, that could be one reason."

Mike is silent for a while. "I guess I kind of…never thought about that. My dad's Chinese, my mom's Japanese and Chinese, and I grew up in Latin America, so I consider myself Asian and Latino, you know? It wasn't really a big deal for me growing up, I was just surrounded by all these stuff that defined who I am as well."

As the men continue to talk about their wives and seem to have forgotten her, she starts to think about her own birth mother, Shelby, her own heritage, how she'd also wanted to know about her mother, too. They haven't really been in touch since Shelby left Lima, which probably was for the best, but sometimes, Rachel thinks she _could_ understand herself more if she got to know Shelby more. And then she thinks about Suzie, and wonders if Suzie has ever wondered about who her birth father was. She hasn't really raised the question yet, but Rachel wonders if one day she'll ask this question, too. And then there's the baby in her womb, the baby who is part Santana, part her, part African-American, part Caucasian donor. She wonders what kind of issues and challenges she would face, wonders if she's actually fit to raise a multi-racial child, wonders if she'll be able to deal with these things as well. Then as they continue to talk about their wives, she starts to think about Santana, too. Every time she tries to talk to Santana, Santana inevitably finds some way to steer the discussion away from her condition, from their situation. Sometimes, she feels like she's losing control of things, like Santana is slipping away.

And all of this talk about Tina and Mike's relationship isn't helping as well and only serves to remind Rachel of their own problems.

Once, Santana had left her mobile phone on the bedside table whilst showering and the phone had buzzed and she hadn't meant to glance at the phone, but she had, and she'd seen a name, "Sissy" spring up and against her better judgment, she'd checked out the message and the message only read, "Yes, see you at the park, six am." She doesn't know what compels her then to do what she does after, but she opens Santana's message inbox and finds it full of messages from "Sissy" and Quinn. She shouldn't be surprised that Santana and Quinn keep in touch a lot, and from the evidence from Santana's inbox, exchange inordinate amounts of text messages, but this Sissy character is new, and Rachel, though not entirely a stranger to clandestine trysts of a sort that Santana seems to be planning with this Sissy character, decides to give her wife the benefit of the doubt. After all, they've been together eight years, they've been through so much, surely Santana wouldn't cheat on her now? But what if it's because they've been together eight years now, and Santana's getting bored, after all, Rachel is now a very pregnant Rachel Berry, all hormones and cravings and her emotions all over the place and she's fat and she seems to constantly need assurance, validation, that's not fat at all, but still pretty and phenomenal and still amazing. Maybe Santana, _her_ Santana is simply getting tired of her? Of their relationship? Of all the drama it's bringing? Especially now, with a baby on the way? She hadn't even touched Rachel since that trip to Dr. Westheimer's, and when she does, it's almost as if she's afraid to hold her. And when Rachel initiates anything, Santana would mumble that she's tired and would turn on her side and sleep. Thankfully, they've been together for so long Santana actually instinctively curls into Rachel in sleep, and Rachel feels a little less lonely in the silence Santana leaves in her wake. She knows Santana really loves her and is making an effort, to support Rachel, but she wishes things would get easier, that things wouldn't be as hard as it has been these past few months for both of them, because she loves Santana so much and doesn't want to see her going through this, just wants to make everything all better for her, for all of them. Rachel quietly sighs.

"What do you think, Rachel?"

The question brings Rachel back to the present, snaps her out of her reverie and it is then that she notices that the kitchen has grown silent and everyone has turned towards her, waiting for her to speak. "Sorry, what?" she asks now. "About Mike and Tina?"

"Naw…we've decided we're dropping that subject for now. We don't want to stress you out with our man problems," Mike says. "But we were asking you about names, dude, names! Have we thought of names for the Berry Lopez baby?"

She stares at Mike blankly. Mercifully, the doorbell rings and Dave gets up, saying he'll get it and a few minutes later, he comes with Sam, in what appears to be a part-fishnet tee shirt, part strips of gray, blue and yellow on the side of the tee, complete with glitter on it, beneath a jacket and skinny jeans. Sam sets his laptop and backpack on the table and his guitar on the floor. Following closely behind them is Suzie, in dark jeans and a dark tee, running a hand on her dark blonde tousled hair.

"Hey, Mom," Suzie says, giving her mother a kiss.

"Hey," Rachel says now. "Thought you had a party to go to? And where's Carlitos?"

Suzie grins at Rachel. "Eh, it got boring. Uncle Sam texted me and said there was a movie marathon going on, so I think I'd rather hang out here. Carlitos is still at the party. Apparently he's the life of the party now."

Rachel grins and she hugs Suzie. "Aaw, Mom, let go," Suzie mutters.

Rachel laughs. Then she looks over at Sam as he puts his backpack down and he grins at her, Dave, Mike and Jeffrey, before Mike clears his throat and says, "Dude, what are you wearing?" and Sam turns to look at Rachel and he stops, his eyes widen and his jaw drops as he stares at her and he says, "Whoa…!"

Mike and Dave stop and look at Sam as they both ask, "What?"

Sam gives Rachel an admiring look as he whistles and says, "Wow, Rachel, your boobs are…_massive!_"

Mike, Dave and Jeffrey all look at each other as Suzie makes a face and rolls her eyes and a slow blush crawls up Rachel's neck and up to her face.

"I mean, dude, _enormous_," Sam says, as he stares, wide-eyed and disbelieving, at Rachel's breasts. "They look like they're saying _'Come hither' _they're so _immense_!" As the others look at Sam uneasily, Sam says, "I can't stop staring. It looks like it wants to escape your blouse and run away…"

"See, this is why Quinn thinks God created women first," Jeffrey comments. "Men are dumb asshats…"

"Dude…" Mike starts to speak to Sam.

Sam continues, unfazed, "It's like staring at the face of _God_…"

Rachel draws her cardigan, closer to herself, the pink cardigan with the reindeer that Santana's secretary, Marcy, had given Santana for Christmas the year before, and which Santana would never wear ever, Rachel feeling increasingly conscious of Sam's eyes on her. Sam looks like he's in a trance.

"Dude!" Mike says, passing his hand in front of Sam, snapping his finger before hitting Sam upside on the back of the head.

"Ow!" Sam says, rubbing the back of his hand.

"Stop staring, Sam, it's not _polite_, geez," Mike says.

"Dude, it's _boobs_," Sam says. "It's Rachel's boobs suddenly growing _exponentially_. And she doesn't even need to go the breast augmentation route. It's the coolest thing _ever_."

Mike grimaces. "No, it's not. That's just _wrong_…"

"Whatever, dude," Sam says. "Dude, did you know glass balls, ivory, ox cartilage, polyester, ground rubber and balls of tape have all been used in the past for breast augmentation?"

"Dude, no," Mike says.

"Enjoying the sexual frustration, Sam?" Jeffrey quips. Sam scowls at him.

"Cool info Uncle Sam," Suzie says. "Did you know American female breasts range from point five to twenty pounds with the average being one point one pounds? And that the average American woman wears a 36C bra, up from 34 B in 1995? And that there are nearly three hundred nineteen million breasts in the United States alone?"

"And…now we know Suzie and Sam go to the same websites," Mike says. "Geeks!"

As Dave and Jeffrey both laugh, Mike says, "You're just trying to distract us, Sam. What are you wearing?"

"Yeah, what is that travesty on your body?" Rachel asks.

"Wow, you sounded just like Santana right then," Dave comments, with a grin.

Sam looks down at his shirt. "What?"

"You look like you're dressed like a galaxy," Mike says. "In fact, you just looked like you swallowed the sun."

Jeffrey, Mike and Dave start to snicker as Rachel smiles and Sam looks at them with a hurt expression on his face. Rachel puts out her hand and rubs Sam's back, saying, "Aaww. Don't listen to them."

"Yeah, you look nice, Uncle Sam," Suzie says. "It's like we're standing in the middle of the galaxy or something."

Sam juts out his chin and says, "I'll have you know Kurt designed this shirt for me."

The laughter dies from Jeffrey, Mike and Dave's mouths as they stare at Sam.

"What?" Sam asks. "It's kind of cool. It's very sci-fi. It has zippers that you can pull down and then it transforms into something else entirely." And here he pulls down the zippers to reveal an inner shirt that looks like a Star Trek costume.

Mike clears his throat. "So, Kurt has now found his niche market, has he? Designing clothes for pregnant women and hardcore, die-hard geeks?"

"Whatever, dudes. Anyway, sorry I'm late, but I'm here now, so what were you guys talking about?" Sam asks now.

"Baby names for baby Berry Lopez!" Mike says.

"Oooh, nice!" Sam says, rubbing his hands together. "I don't know about you guys, but 'Sagan' would totally be a cool name!"

"Sagan?" everyone, including Rachel, asks.

"Yeah, hello? Carl Sagan! He who has said, 'We are all stardust'! Coolest dude ever!" Sam says. "Or maybe, Marion for Marion Zimmer Bradley…or…"

"Yeah, sealing her fate as the girl that everyone kind of slushies, or whatever is the equivalent of a slushie in any school in America," Mike says sarcastically. Mike turns to Rachel. "Anyway, dude, you're like only a few weeks away. You should seriously think of a name for your child by now."

Rachel shrugs. "We haven't decided on anything yet really."

"I still prefer 'Blue'," Suzie says.

Mike nods and says, "Okay" and thankfully, none of the guys push it, or raise any pregnancy-related topic that they feel would make Rachel uncomfortable, with everyone just chatting with everyone else, until it's time for dinner, during which, Sam offers to order take-out pizza and announces, that they will have "The World's Best Actors in the Worst Movies" marathon.

"What do you have lined up?" Mike says now.

Sam grins. "Dude, Robert de Niro in 'Rocky and Bullwinkle', Richard Burton in 'Exorcist II: Heretic', Ben Kingsley in 'BloodRayne', Tony Curtis in 'Bad News Bears Goes to Japan', Dennis Hopper in 'Super Mario Bros', Orson Wells in 'Transformer' the Movie, Judi Dench in 'Chronicles of Riddick', Laurence Olivier in 'Clash of the Titans', Jeremy Irons and John Malkovich in 'Eragon' and Marlon Brando in 'Superman'! And then after that, we can do a bad sci-fi movie marathon, like 'Golden Compass', 'AI: Artificial Intelligence', 'Mad Max', 'Transformers' and 'Daredevil'."

Rachel smiles uncomfortably. "Maybe we should skip Exorcist and BloodRayne," she says, because she doesn't like horror and she only ever watches it when Santana is around.

"Okay, fair enough," Sam says. "So I guess I won't be showing you this awesome 'Game of Thrones' scene where the woman gives birth to this scary, ghostly kind of smoke demon…"

"Dude, no! What is _wrong_ with you, man?" Mike says now.

Sam knits his eyebrows. "Why…?"

Mike rolls his eyes. "Dude, it's a scary witch lady giving birth to a scary, smoke _demon_." When Sam shrugs as if to ask, "What's your point?" Mike looks at him impatiently and says, "So, do you really want to freak out Rachel right now? You can't do that, not with her _condition_, geez, man! You're going to put her in premature _labor_!"

"I still don't get it…" Sam starts. "You know what would be cool? If, while Rachel gives birth, they're playing some kick-ass soundtrack, like Clint Mansell's 'Lux Aeterna' and somebody who vaguely sounds like Cate Blanchett is doing a voiceover in the background and she's saying something like…" and here Sam pauses, raises his voice to make it more feminine, dons a British accent and pretends to echo the words,as he says, _"'In the Land of Mordor…born of salt and smoke… smoke… smoke…'_"

"Salt and _smoke?_" Dave asks. "Why, is Rachel's baby _ham?_"

"Stop thinking about food all the time, Dave" Sam says, rolling his eyes. "Isn't Kurt making you go on a diet…_diet_…_diet_…?"

"Well, stop being a geek all the time, _Sam_," Mike says.

"Sayeth the geek to the other geek," Jeffrey mutters.

Rachel just laughs at her friends.

"And also…" and here Mike pauses before he leans over and hits Sam upside on the back of the head.

"Ow!" Sam says now.

"Sorry," Mike says. "You know you had that coming, right? I did that because we love you."

"Alright, alright, you have a point, I'm sorry," Sam says. "Ever since I saw that scene, I've been dreaming about dancing fetuses and Rachel in stirrups and sexy umbilical cords..."

Mike, Rachel and Dave make a face. Mike asks, "Why the hell would you be _dreaming_ about Rachel? In stirrups? And dancing fetuses? And sexy umbilical cords?! That's just freaky, Sam. Get some help."

"I also have these recurring fantasies about abortion musicals…" Sam continues.

"But what songs would they sing in an abortion musical?" Suzie asks.

"'Papa Don't Preach', for starters," Sam says. "'Freshmen'? By the Verve Pipe?"

"'I've Never Been To Me'?" Jeffrey adds.

"Dude, so totally inappropriate…and so wrong…on so many levels," Mike comments. Mike looks at Rachel now, "Rachel, so sorry, we're dudes, we're kind of terrible with _words_ and making our friend feel better but…"

"We're here for ya," Jeffrey supplies.

"All the way, dude," Sam says, with a grin.

Dave grins as well. "All the way, Rachel."

Suzie grins as well. "Ditto, Mom. What they said."

Rachel smiles, feeling her eyes well up with tears, as she nods at her daughter and friends. Before she knows it though, there are actual tears sliding down her cheeks and she chokes, as she says, "Thanks, you guys."

"Yeah. So, before this all gets sappy, we've got to start the movie marathon," Mike says now.

Rachel nods, struggling to contain her emotion, as she wipes the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. Dave brings out a pack of tissues from his jacket, and Suzie comes over to put an arm on her mother.

"I'm sorry you guys, I'm just so emotional these days," Rachel says apologetically. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just seem to have a lot of feelings these days."

"That's okay, at least a couple of us dudes know why," Jeffrey says. Mike nods in agreement.

Sam, however, is silent as he takes out his mobile phone, thumbs through it, aims it at Rachel and snaps a photo of Rachel, the light flashing against Rachel's face. Rachel blinks as the phone's camera flashes and she says, "Stop it! It's not funny!"

Sam grins. "It's a little funny…"

"It's not!" Rachel says, wiping away the tears from her eyes.

"_So_ posting this on my account!" Sam says.

Mike glares at Sam for a second before he puts up his hand again and hits Sam on the head again. "What's the matter with you, dude?"

"What?" Sam asks. "I want to record all of this for posterity!"

Rachel pouts at Sam as he laughs and says, "Okay, okay, not funny. Stopping now. But still…it's a little bit funny."

Mike rolls his eyes. "Please ignore him. He's mentally challenged. Also socially inept. For more than thirty years now," he says as they all troop to the Lopez living room.

As Sam and Mike start to set up the television with Sam's laptop and external hard drive, Dave asks Suzie as he, Suzie and Rachel settle down on the couch and start eating food, "So, Suzie, you've got like a year and a half left till college. What are you going to study?"

Suzie takes a bit of pizza, swallows, drinks some water, rolls her eyes and manages to say, "Ugh, not you, too, Uncle Dave. Mom's been on my case since _puberty_."

The guys start to laugh but then Rachel glares at all of them and the laughter stops.

"It's nice to think about your future, Suzie," Rachel says.

Suzie nods. "I know, I know, Mom. You keep telling me that."

Mike grins. "Must be awesome to have Rachel as your Mom."

Suzie smirks. "You have _no _idea."

The guys start to snicker but then Rachel scowls at them again, giving them all a murderous look and she tries vainly to do the same to Suzie, but Suzie, being Suzie, seems oblivious as she continues, "Yeah. So glad a new sib is coming along. I'm still calling her Blue."

"There is no way in hell we're calling your baby sister a primary color," Rachel says as she goes through the box of Krispy Kreme and searches for her pristinely glazed donuts.

Dave leans over, offers to help and lifts out one donut for Rachel with a grin. "I had the pristinely glazed donuts separated."

Rachel grins. "Thanks."

"Anyway, you could totally be a dancer like your Mommy Britt and I," Mike offers.

"Or go into I.T., 'cause that's where the money's at," Sam says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Yes, I'd love to, but I actually want to get laid, Uncle Sam," Suzie jokes with a smirk. "So Mom keeps telling me."

"I'm guessing Santana told you that?" Sam says as the others laugh at his expense. He pretends to be offended by what Suzie is saying, and says, "I kind of miss innocent Suzie. Inappropriate Suzie is _so_ not nice."

"Suzie scores!" Mike says with a guffaw. "_That_ is Santana's daughter obviously."

"Well, Mom doesn't want me to be a rock star or a reality star or whatever. I really just want to be rich enough to buy my own giraffe, but whatever," Suzie jokes. She grins. "Anyway, the Moms say I can major in anything but I haven't decided yet. I guess anything but law, because Mom took forever to finish law school."

"Three or four years for undergrad, sweetie, three years for law school, plus a year for the bar," Rachel says with a smile. Rachel knows Santana doesn't want to admit it, but Santana had actually been a geek in college, had finished her undergrad degree in record time with impressive grades and extracurricular activities and she had been an outstanding law student as well, and had written and edited for the law journal. Santana does not talk about it a lot but she knows Santana and Brittany had struggled those first few years, especially since Santana had been in law school for almost seven years. While Santana would have loved for Suzie to try her hand at law, both of them have agreed that Suzie would have some freedom to choose her major, although they both hope she would go into dancing, like Brittany. Suzie is a wonderful dancer, and they both think she has a future in classical or modern ballet. They have been encouraging her to try auditioning for any of New York's ballet schools, but especially New York Academy of Ballet, which holds annual country-wide auditions to get twelve dancers every year. The selection is rigid, training is rigorous, the discipline strict, but the opportunity after to showcase their talents in a final dance workshop presentation in order to be invited to dance for the New York Ballet Company or be invited in the numerous other dance companies all over the country, would be a wonderful chance for Suzie to have her talents recognized. Suzie seems to be listening to Rachel and has been considering it, but being a high school junior and a fifteen year old makes it impossible for Rachel to push it harder, for fear that Suzie will do the exact opposite and not apply at all.

Suzie smiles at Rachel now. "I know, Mom." She then grins and looks at Rachel mischievously. "I'm actually considering being a gynecologist, Mom. I'd love to look at vaginas all day long."

Dave and Rachel make a face as Rachel says, "_Suzie_, that is _so_ wrong."

"And yet so _right_," Sam says, smiling.

"Sorry," Suzie says with a grin.

Dave grins. "Yup, definitely Santana's daughter."

Mike nods. "No question about it." He smiles. "We used to think it was being Santana, Rachel and Brittany's daughter that's made you who you are, but we now think all that stuff's all you, Suzie."

Suzie grins even more, completely unruffled as she pops a slice of pizza in her mouth.

"And also just a little bit gross, Suzie," Sam comments.

"Just like you," Jeffrey says to Sam now. "I mean, I heard you wanted Rachel to buy children's books with titles like 'I Eat Children' or 'I Eat Whiny Children'. Where do you get this stuff?"

Sam only grins.

"Yeah. Obviously, Dr. Seuss for the win, Rachel," Mike says. "You can never go wrong with Dr. Seuss!"

"Or Curious George!" Dave says.

"Curious George is awesome! I just read that the other day." Sam says, with a grin. Then he stops, seems to remember something, because he starts to rummage in his backpack and pulls out DVDs and hands it to Rachel.

"What's this?" Rachel asks, staring at the DVDs as Sam goes back to tinkering with his laptop and the television.

Sam looks up. "Baby Einstein. The lady at the store said that would be cool for the baby to watch."

Mike seems to have remembered something as well because he rummages in his own pack and pulls out an intercom equipment and a walkie-talkie and hands them to Rachel. "Thought you might need this when the baby's born. You know, so you can hear her when you're not in the room."

Sam grins. "Yeah, we don't _do_ baby showers, but we can do this instead."

Rachel smiles at them. "Thanks, you guys."

Suzie thus pulls out a small boxed gift and hands it to her mother. "This is mine, Mom."

"What's this?"

Suzie grins enigmatically and says, "For sexy times. With Mom."

Rachel doesn't know what to say to that, but later, when she unwraps the gift, it is Victoria's Secret underwear and lingerie and it makes her blush so much that after, when she takes a look at Suzie and Suzie realizes she has opened her gift, Suzie dissolves in laughter and tells her, "Love you, Mom!" Rachel couldn't find it in her heart to be mad at her daughter after that.

"Anyway, TV's ready!" Sam announces as he hunches down on his laptop and the opening credits for "Rocky and Bullwinkle" pop up.

Everyone settles back on the couch or on the floor as they start to watch "Rocky and Bullwinkle".

"Oh, god, you guys have no idea how awesome this marathon is going to be," Dave says now. When everyone just looks at him, he says, "Kurt has this insane thing for 80s television shows, so we've been having marathons of 'Facts of Life', 'Golden Girls', 'Moonlighting' and 'Designing Women'."

Rachel laughs. "That sounds like Kurt alright. Kurt really loves those television shows. He and Santana love watching them. Has he made you watch 'Mamma Mia' the movie musical yet?"

Dave grins and nods.

"Wow, that's so gay. And almost as bad Sam's obsession with Barry Manilow," Mike says. Then he looks at everyone and informs them, "Did you know Sam once went to a costume party dressed in ruffles from head to foot because he went as Barry Manilow? And he sang 'Copacabana'."

"Hey! Barry Manilow is awesome! Lay off!" Sam says. "It's like he's talking to me or something…" Then he turns to Mike and says, with a smirk, "And I can't really take you seriously after you came to that same party dressed as the figure skater Kristy Yamaguchi. Half of the fun of that night was having everyone _not_ get who you came as and you getting so pissed nobody knew who Yamaguchi was. It was hilarious."

Mike smiles. "Yes, that was the night I realized you had a thing for figure skating. Because you were the _only_ one who got Yamaguchi right. And you kept _staring_ at my ass the whole time."

Suzie grins. "Uncle Dave, shouldn't you be doing something else with Uncle Kurt? Like…I don't know…getting it on or something?"

There is a collective silence as everyone looks at Suzie, shocked and speechless.

"Suzie!" Rachel chides her, horrified. "Do you want to go two months without allowance this time?"

Suzie grins. "Sorry, Mom. Sorry Uncle Dave…Just kidding," Suzie says, as Dave blushes.

Sam grins and leans over to Suzie, and whispers, "But going for a month without allowance to get it on with Kate was awesome, wasn't it?"

Suzie grins at him and nods as Rachel says, "Sam! Stop it. Don't encourage her."

Sam only laughs but puts up his hands in surrender. Everyone then starts to tease everyone else when it comes to their love life and everything is back to normal. Rachel is glad that Suzie and their friends are actually here now. It makes the loneliness less palpable.

* * *

As soon as the airplane lands and stops to a halt at the end of the building and the seatbelt sign blinks off, Santana is off and rushing through the aisle, airport security, and out of the airport, with her luggage and her laptop bag in tow as she navigates her way out of the crowded Ohio airport. The airport is busy, full of people and good cheer and those insufferable Christmas carols that she has been hearing everywhere. But then, a song plays over the PA system, "O, Holy Night" and she finds herself stopping, because the voice is familiar, unmistakable, and as she strains to hear it above the laughter and the shouts and the conversation and thousands of shoes squeaking and pounding over the tiles and luggages and bags and various other things being dragged or wheeled across the airport, she realizes it is Rachel, singing the song, for GreenVision and WorldPeace, a song she recorded for the infomercial she made for both non-profit organizations and interestingly enough, just enough people had taken notice of her version of the song. Rachel is Jewish, of course, but she hadn't minded singing the song, it was all for a good cause anyway. Standing there, listening to the song, reminds Santana how much she misses her wife and she clutches the handle of her luggage, adjusts her laptop bag on her shoulder and more determinedly makes her way across the airport, scowling along the way at a couple of people who've bumped against her shoulder, before she makes it through the door, unscathed.

As soon as she steps outside, she realizes three things: one, it's snowing, two, it's fucking cold and she'd forgotten to bring a thicker coat, and three, Quinn leaning by her dark maroon Ford SUV, arms crossed in front, face annoyed, shivering, as she draws her coat around her with her gloved hands and cranes her neck to see whether the next group of passengers filing out of the airport entrance is who she is waiting for. She spots Santana and the scowl turns into a half-smirk, half-grin as she nods her head in cool acknowledgement and raises her hand in a casual wave as Santana makes her way to her.

"Hey, loser, get in," Quinn says with a smirk and a grin as she automatically gets Santana's luggage and laptop, opens the back of the SUV and stows Santana's stuff there.

"Nice to see you, too, Quinn," Santana shouts, half-cantankerously, half-good naturedly, before she opens the door.

"_Whatever_," Quinn shouts back before she slams the back door of the SUV down and proceeds to the driver's side of the SUV.

Santana slides into the passenger side beside Quinn.

"_Fuck _it's cold!" Santana says. "Thanks for picking me up, Q."

Quinn shrugs as she starts the car, pulls the brake down and eases the car slowly out of the parking lot. "No problem, as long as you don't do that shit where you start getting too emotional or weepy or whatever, we're good. And you look nice. You don't look like you just came from flight attendant training."

"Fuck you, Quinn," Santana snaps.

"I've missed you, too, Santana," Quinn smirks back. "How was the flight?"

"Crap."

"How's work?"

"Ugh. Same old, same old," Santana says. "I love it, but yeah. You?"

Quinn shrugs as she checks her rearview and side mirrors. "Oh, the same. Being staff to an Ohio representative in Congress is nice, but it gets old, too, so."

Santana laughs. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I actually saw your boss."

"Harris?" Quinn asks.

"No, Satan," Santana says, sarcastically. "Of course, Harris. Well, he was talking to _my_ boss, Wolfram, but yeah."

Quinn smiles. "Okay. That's weird, and so random, but okay."

Santana leans over to turn on the stereo and Abba's "Mamma Mia" start to play. Quinn makes a face.

"I've said it before, I'll say it again," Quinn says now, "No more_ fucking_ Abba."

Santana chuckles and fiddles with the radio and the car is engulfed in the first strains of Cheap Trick's "The Flame" playing on the radio. Santana moves to change the dial, but Quinn stops her and says, "Oh, hell no, Santana. Don't touch a white girl's stereo."

Santana chuckles. "Sorry."

"That's a good song, Santana," Quinn says now as the song continues to play. She starts to sing along.

""_Another night slowly closes in,__  
And I feel so lonely.__  
Touching heat freezing on my skin,__  
I pretend you still hold me.__  
I'm going crazy, I'm losing sleep.__  
I'm in too far, I'm in way too deep over you.__  
I can't believe you're gone.__  
You were the first, you'll be the last.__"__  
_

Santana makes a face. Quinn laughs. "Aw, come on, Santana, I'm pretty sure your older brother made you listen to 80s power ballads growing up. Sing this with me now."

Santana laughs as Cheap Trick starts to sing the chorus. As it does, Quinn steals a glance at Santana, they both look at each other, laugh and start to sing the song together:

"_Wherever you go, I'll be with you.__  
Whatever you want, I'll give it to you.__  
Whenever you need someone__  
To lay your heart and head upon.__  
Remember: after the fire, after all the rain,__  
I will be the flame.__  
I will be the flame…"_

When they are done singing the chorus, Santana smiles at Quinn and says, "Merry Christmas, Q."

"Merry Christmas to you, too."

* * *

Of all the things Rachel had not expected, she had not expected to see Finn Hudson in a Lima grocery store, slightly drunk and slurring and swaying from side to side, as he addresses her with those moony, bloodshot, unfocused eyes. She thinks it was probably a bad idea to have come along with Sam when he had announced, in the middle of everyone giggling and throwing popcorn at Robert De Niro's moving performance in "Rocky and Bullwinkle" that they had run out of Lay's, Pringles and popcorn. Dr. Lopez and Mrs. Lopez had already come home and enjoying the movie marathon themselves, Dr. Lopez and Sam vying for first prize for best Robert De Niro impersonation to everyone's eye roll and snickers. Sam had offered to go pick up some food at the grocery store and despite everyone's protests, and Mike said he'd go with them and Rachel had wanted, had _insisted_ on going. But Rachel had been home a few days, and had wanted to go out, however limited the sights in Lima, Ohio were. The snow hadn't been too heavy for them to take Carlos' car, and they had managed to get to the store and back in one piece in it. Dr. Lopez made the boys promise to bring Rachel back as soon as possible, since the snow was fixing to be heavy that night - a snow storm is being predicted after all - and they wanted Rachel safe and sound at home. Mike had actually secretly taken Rachel aside, whilst they were in the Lopez kitchen and had confessed that he is getting worried that not only are they drifting apart, but that Tina is slipping away, and their marriage is falling apart. Rachel is surprised that Mike would confide so openly about this and she listens patiently, unable to say anything, mostly Mike telling her all these makes Rachel actually think about her _own_ marriage and relationship with Santana and an anxiety and worry settle over her that she can't seem to shake away.

Rachel now thinks coming with Sam and Mike is a bad idea. Because if there's anything much worse than missing your wife and worrying about your marriage and your relationship, and your baby, it's seeing your ex-boyfriend from high school in the middle of the snacks section of the grocery store.

"Rachel? Is that you?" a voice, at first unrecognizable, greets her from behind. As the question is uncertainly repeated, Rachel turns around and there, towering over like a damn, uncoordinated Ent from a Lord of the Rings musical, is Finn Hudson, in plaid flannel and cardigan, an old Journey tee shirt beneath it hiding the barely concealed beer belly, with what seems like greasy, old denim jeans and old Chuck Taylor sneakers. He stops, puts out a hand to steady himself as he looks at Rachel. He has a day-old beard on his face, his eyes bloodshot, sunken and glassy, his cheeks more prominent, his hair tousled and unkempt, his face grown slightly older and haggard. He looks thinner, Rachel thinks, and even when he smiles that dopy smile Rachel used to love in high school, the smile doesn't seem to reach his empty, lifeless eyes. He looks a little like a disgruntled bulldog now. He still looks handsome, Rachel thinks, but he doesn't look anywhere near the dashing, young quarterback slash leading man she had mooned over the four years of high school that they were together. She stands there, staring at him, before she finds herself thinking, with a tinge of embarrassment, "_This_ was the guy I was crazy over for my entire high school _life_? What was I _thinking_?"

Rachel wants to ignore him, pretend she had not recognized him, because she really doesn't need the added aggravation of talking to Finn Hudson right now, but she manages a smile and says, "Hey, Finn," whilst thinking to herself, "Where the _hell_ are you guys?" She doesn't know why but feels like a trapped animal in a cage with a hyena on the snack food aisle in a small Ohio grocery store.

Fortunately Finn doesn't notice all of this and instead, leans on the shelf and slurs, "So, how ya been, Rachel?"

Rachel smiles tightly, itching to leave, because really, the way Finn looks at her right now, it just makes her a bit uncomfortable.

Finn only smiles and says, "Wow, you're kind of, like _huge _now Rachel. I like, see you sometimes on my television or in the cinema or hear your voice and I'm like, whoa, I used to date that girl!"

Rachel doesn't know how to respond to that and so she just nods, wondering where Sam is, and wondering what kind of exit strategy would be best to extricate herself from this situation.

"And you won a Tony and you got nominated, and I saw you once on the news, and I'm like, shit, shouldn't have let you go on the day we were supposed to get married," Finn says now, wiping the end of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Finn looks at her now, from head to toe and his gaze lingers on her stomach and Rachel really feels very uncomfortable with all this, but Finn hardly notices as he says, "And oh my god, you're pregnant?"

Finn advances towards her, and says, "Wow, that's…that's awesome…that's…" he drunkenly lurches forward and it surprises Rachel and Rachel takes a step back.

Rachel hadn't actually talked to Finn since that day he had unceremoniously dumped her at the Lima train station on the day of their wedding after high school graduation. She'd spent a few months in New York mooning over him, to everyone, especially Kurt's, consternation, and she'd tried to get over him by mooning over yet another guy, the one Santana still calls Sex Offender to this day (she hadn't bothered to learn his name, he was forgettable and just douche-y like that, Santana had said), but she'd found that the one thing that kind of changed everything was one drunken night with Santana Lopez her freshmen year in NYADA. And even after she'd already dated a few people and had gotten married and divorced, one look at Santana Lopez during that one time they had both been home for the holidays eight years ago, and Rachel was back again to that time freshmen year in NYADA, when she had been with Santana Lopez, and _that_, had changed her life. It seems a long way from all those years ago when she had been mooning over Finn Hudson and she finds she is actually just fine with it.

But Rachel now feels downright uncomfortable and she actually feels nervous and her heart is starting to thump hard against her chest. Finn is drunk and acting really weird and freaky and had Finn actually been this _creepy_ in high school? Why hadn't she noticed?

Thankfully, footsteps from behind distract her and she hopes it's Sam Evans but instead, of all people, it's Jacob Ben Israel, looking all weird in a coat and tie, all clean and neat and polished, and if it weren't for his trendier glasses and his wild shock of curly hair, she wouldn't have recognized him.

Jacob stops as Rachel turns around and they both recognize each other.

"Hey, Rachel," Jacob says now, uncertainly, softly. "How are you?"

"Hey," Rachel says, relieved to see Jacob. "Wow, you cleaned up nice."

Jacob nods. "Yeah. I'm working at the local TV station as a producer and it's been great and..."

"He's just a glorified coffee maker really," Finn interrupts now, with a smirk on his face.

Jacob looks at him now but chooses to ignore him, instead choosing to address Rachel, "How you been? I see you sometimes on TV and in the movies and I think it's pretty awesome and wow, congrats on your Tony! I knew you would make it!"

Rachel only smiles, saying, "Thank you." Who knew Jacob Ben Israel would turn out okay?

"Well, if you have some time or whatever, we'd love to see you on our morning show. Rod Remington's like our own Bryant Gumble..."

"What, overpaid and overrated?" Finn asks now with a smirk.

Jacob ignores him and says, "And you'd have to sit through Coach Sue's inevitable rants on everything, but it might be cool."

Rachel only nods and says, "I don't know, I'm only kind of home for the holidays really, but we'll see."

"Great!" Jacob says, now smiling at her with so much glee and excitement on his face Rachel smiles. He then extends his hand formally and says, "It was really great to see you again."

Rachel smiles and accepts the hand and as they shake hands, Finn says, "Wow, who would have thought the guy who jacks off to New Directions songs and performances during school assembly and has a thing for girl's soiled underwear would be this _formal_ and polite and shit."

Jacob closes his eyes, sighs and turns to Finn, "Finn, you're drunk. Why don't you just go home before you embarrass yourself even more like you did last time?"

There's a dark look that passes through Finn's face before he advances towards Jacob and he says, menacingly, "What did you just say?"

"You're drunk, go home," Jacob says now, more firmly.

Rachel's heart is positively pounding now. Jacob and Finn stare at each other like two animals sizing each other up, but then Sam and then Mike thankfully come over, with Sam clutching big bags of Lay's whilst saying, "Rachel, they don't have those spicy Lay's you want but I got the original flavored ones and...can you tell Mike Barry Manilow is way better than Phil Collins seriously…?" Sam stops when he sees Finn and Jacob and he says, "Oh, hey, you guys."

Jacob only nods before muttering something about his girlfriend waiting for him in another aisle and needing to leave and Finn says, "Yeah, you do that, loser!" Finn then dissolves in laughter.

Jacob had turned his back on them, had been making his way to the end of the aisle, but he stops for a millisecond, looking like he is debating responding to Finn's attack, before he decides against it and continues on down the aisle, turning the corner of the aisle.

"Dude, wow, you're kind of drunk right now, aren't you? How much have you had to drink?" Sam says affably now, stepping between Rachel and Finn, firmly planting himself between them, as Mike casually stands near Sam as well.

"I'm not drunk," Finn says. "The world's just…wobbly."

Sam smiles. "Cool," he says, putting out a hand and subtly pushing Rachel back.

"Yeah, cool," Mike says, smiling, before he gestures to Sam that they need to go.

"So, what you guys up to?" Finn asks now.

Mike says, "Nothing" at about the same time Sam says, "We're having a movie marathon."

Mike and Rachel resist the urge to glare at Sam, as Sam continues, "We're watching bad movies which could have been improved by hiring better writers, or better directors or just firing the writers or sticking to the original story or something. So we're watching 'AI: Artificial Intelligence' which would have been better if they stuck truer to the Brian Aldiss version, 'Golden Compass', because the Philip Pullman novels were awesome and they should have stuck with Tom Stoppard when they were trying to adapt it to the screen, 'Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome', because if they'd gotten rid of Mad Max's weird mullet and just made it about him and Tina Turner, then it would have been awesome because Tina Turner also sung that song 'We Don't Need Another Hero'…"

Mike interrupts and adds, "And you forget, if you got rid of Indiana Jones' kid in 'Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of Crystal Skull', that would have been like a hundred times better because seriously that kid is awful in everything, including all the 'Transformers' movies and if Ben Affleck discovered his love for directing earlier, then we wouldn't have had to sit through 'Daredevil', and if they didn't cast Will Smith in 'I Am Legend' and stuck to the original ending, that would have been cooler…"

"But I love 'I am Legend'!" Sam says now. "It's a dystopian vision of the world…with zombies! What's not to love…?"

"Hold up, hold up, big words, headache," Finn says now, putting a hand to his forehead and rubbing it slowly. "I forgot how geeky you both are. Dorks! It's like when Rachel and I used to go out and I couldn't understand half of what she was saying… What does dystopian even_ mean_, man? That's a good word, right?"

"It's…" Sam begins to explain, but then he says, "Never mind. We have to go now…"

"Aaww, so soon?" Finn slurs now. "I would love to catch up with you guys. I mean, Mike, dude, you're big now, too, aren't you? You're like, dancing and everything, in Hollywood and I saw you in that dance movie, 'A-Game' doing your pop and lock and at first, I didn't even recognize you because all you Asians look alike and the movie seemed so gay somehow, but then…whoa! Mike Chang dancing! In a movie! Holy crap!"

Sam, Mike and Rachel stand around not knowing what to say to that. Mike is looking at Finn trying to decide if he's supposed to offended by what Finn has just said but Finn beats him to it.

Finn notices that Sam has put a protective arm around the increasingly anxious and worried and visibly stressed Rachel and Finn tries to focus his eyes on them and says, "Hey, are you guys like, together? You're kind of holding my ex-girlfriend and former future wife like I used to do before and…"

Mike knits his eyebrows. "Wow, dude, you're _really_ drunk, right now, aren't you?" he comments. "How's about you go on home now, and sleep this off? You'll feel better in the morning? 'Cause I don't think you're going to remember any of this tomorrow."

Sam and Mike back away casually, slowly, with Rachel in the middle of them, before Sam says, "It was nice seeing you by the way, Finn!"

"Hey, you leaving already? " Finn says now, "We should totally hang out and talk about how…like in high school, like Rachel and I were supposed to be…end game and stuff…I mean, I still think we are end game, Rachel, and wasn't it fun because it was all like, she loves me and she loves me not…and she loves me and she loves me not and…"

Sam only smiles tightly. "Right. See you Finn!"

Finn looks at them in frustration and lurches forward to follow them but then a woman appears, from behind them, small and dark-haired and looking, for all intents and purposes, pregnant and tired and disheveled, in her flowery print dress and coat and she looks at Finn and says, "Finn, what's going on?"

Finn now turns around and says, looking at his wife, before pointing at Rachel, "Oh, hey, sorry, just catching up with some old friends...This…This is the one that got away…"

"That's nice," the woman says, distractedly, running a hand on her lifeless, dark hair. If she is upset in the slightest by what Finn has said, she doesn't show it and instead gives Rachel and the others a tired smile. Rachel, Sam and Mike smile back at her. Rachel notices that the woman's right eye is dark and bruised. "But we have to go home now. The kids are all alone and..."

"_Oh, shit_," Finn says, drawing out the word longer than he should before he turns around and says, "Okay, catch you guys later!"

Sam only smiles good-naturedly at him and says, "Sure, Finn, sure." When Finn turns around and puts an arm on what they clearly realize is his wife, Sam looks at Rachel now and says, "Wow, Finn Hudson is a creepy drunk."

"Yeah, you and Finn are _end_ _game_? Who says that? What the hell did you ever see in that guy?" Mike asks, grinning. When Rachel glares at him, Mike says, "Sorry, just kidding."

"But can't blame him though, two of his football kids got convicted for sexually assaulting some sixteen year old girl, making a video of it and posting it on the 'net," Sam says. "He's probably upset. And very angry."

"Ah, Ohio. I have missed you," Mike says. "It's not really Ohio unless there's some news about some stupid, white, teen jocks assaulting some helpless teenage girl."

"Anyway, let's go home, I'm cold and hungry and I need my geek fix," Mike says now.

The others nod as they make their way to the cashier.

* * *

When Rachel, Mike and Sam get home to the Lopez household, the crowd in the living room has grown noticeably bigger and louder and Rachel can already recognize Quinn's voice and Carlitos' voice as well.

When the three troop to the living room, Rachel stops in her tracks. There is a familiar dark-haired head in the middle of all the other dark-haired people and the blonde heads of Quinn, Jeffrey, Aidan and Suzie and the people in the living room all turn around to look at the doorway, Rachel sees that it is Santana, tired and haggard and looking all happy and excited, as the laughter dies from her lips as she sees Rachel with Mike and Sam. Rachel is surprised. She hadn't expected Santana to come home this early. Santana hadn't called or emailed her and she wasn't sure when Santana was coming home and when Santana stands up and says, softly, "Hey, baby," Rachel feels relief, happiness, _love_, flooding her as she sees Santana looking all beautiful as ever. But then as she stands there, staring at Santana, Rachel feels mad again, mad and irritated and sulky because Santana is standing there like nothing's happened, like she hasn't actually forgotten their anniversary, like they hadn't had a fight before Rachel and Suzie went home to Lima, like she hadn't freaked out over Rachel's pregnancy and the complications, like she is unaware that some woman named "Sissy" has more messages for her than Rachel and when Santana smiles uncertainly, puts up a hand and reveals a bunch of lilies, and says, "I bought you flowers," Rachel loses it, she glares at Santana before she turns around and marches up to their room.

* * *

Santana doesn't understand why Rachel looks so upset. She'd made it in time, maybe not for their anniversary, which she knows she'll pay dearly for, but at least in time for Christmas and New Year and she'd beat the holiday rush and the snowstorm so she could be with her and the baby and Suzie, and talking to Dr. Spacey and Quinn had actually given her some perspective, given her some insight, helped her realized she shouldn't freak out about this because, well, the one thing she realizes is that maybe she is worrying and overthinking too much and meanwhile she's missing out on this new experience with her wife and she is letting her own fears and doubts keep her from supporting her wife and helping her get through this difficult time right now.

But as she stands there, not knowing what to do, all confused and uncertain, with her wife just walking out on her, in an angry huff, Mike and Sam grin at her and Sam leans over and whispers to her, amidst the noise and laughter and chatter of the others, "Well, what are you waiting for? Go get her, dude."

So now Santana is by their bedroom door, knocking uncertainly and when no one answers, she grabs the door knob, turns it and pushes the door open. Rachel is standing by the window, staring out at the snow falling outside the window. The snowfall has gotten heavier and stronger. Rachel turns and looks when the door opens and when she sees Santana, she moves to their bathroom and slams it.

Santana heaves a sigh of relief and closes their bedroom door carefully. She walks softly to the bathroom door, takes a deep breath and says, "Baby?"

When Rachel doesn't say anything, Santana speaks more loudly, "Baby? You okay?"

When Rachel still doesn't speak from behind the door, Santana says, "Baby?" Santana stands there, feeling stupid and ridiculous, feeling like she's literally just talking to a wall, and so she sighs and says, "Baby, please. I'm sorry, okay? I know you're mad at me or something, but don't be mad anymore. I miss you and I really don't want us not talking like this and stuff…"

The silence stretches as Rachel refuses to answer from behind the door. Santana sighs even more, wracks her brain for something else to make Rachel talk to her but when she realizes no conversation with her wife is forthcoming, she sighs, "Okay, okay. I guess you don't want to talk right now. I guess you're really mad at me. And I totally understand that. So, if you need some time alone, baby, if you don't want me around for now, I'm just going to go, okay? I'll leave you alone, if you want…"

"Where are you going?" the muffled unmistakable voice of Rachel comes from behind the bathroom door.

Santana shrugs, even though she knows Rachel can't actually see her. She hesitates, not really knowing what to say. That slight hesitation is enough to make Rachel ask again, "Where are you going?"

Santana sighs, closes her eyes. "Nowhere, baby. I'm just going downstairs, maybe sleep on the couch or something. I just got off a flight and I'm kind of tired and…"

Then the muffled voice from behind the bathroom door, says, matter-of-factly, "You forgot our anniversary…"

Santana's eyes fly open, and she leans her forehead against the door and says, "I know, baby, I know. I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you…" When Rachel doesn't reply, Santana continues, "And I didn't actually forget it. Things just kind of got busy and I tried to contact you but…"

"Yeah, that's always your excuse, isn't it?" Rachel's muffled voice comes from behind the door.

"Rach, _please_, I swear, I tried, I really tried to get in touch with you, but you wouldn't answer your phone and you were always offline and how was I supposed to talk to you?"

There's another, longer silence behind the door as Santana hears Rachel shuffle. Santana closes her eyes, puts a hand over her forehead and rubs it. She's exhausted and sleepy and all she wants to do is lie down on their bed and sleep, but she also feels terrible that she and Rachel are going through this now. She feels guilty that she's putting her wife through this, and so late into the pregnancy. Quinn had already given her an earful on stressing out pregnant ladies. Of course she knows she'll never hear the end of it from her own mother, too.

Suddenly, Rachel speaks up again. "Who's Sissy?"

Santana knits her eyebrows. "Sorry, what?"

She hears Rachel take a few steps forward and angrily wrench the door open, almost making Santana stumble forward and fall face down on the floor. But Santana grabs the edge of the door at the last minute for balance and she sees Rachel, all annoyed and petulant, glaring at Santana like her life depended on it.

"Sissy?" Santana asks blankly, not quite placing the name, but Rachel now folds her arms in front of her as she scowls at Santana. Santana then realizes that Rachel is referring to her therapist. She swallows now and says, "Sissy?" she pauses, before she shakes her head, "Nobody. She's…nobody."

Rachel just stares at her for a few seconds, before she sighs, annoyed at Santana, steps back into the bathroom, grabs the bathroom door and slams the door on Santana's face. Santana jumps back, the door barely hitting her face by a few inches.

"_Baby!_" Santana says, exasperated. "Don't do this."

"Who's Sissy?" Rachel demands now.

Santana shakes her head. "No one, baby, seriously."

Rachel opens the door a crack and asks, "No one? You've got like _thousands_ of messages from her."

"Baby," Santana starts to speak, before she realizes Rachel has gone through her phone. "Have you been going through my phone?"

Rachel pauses, before she says, "_Nooo_…"

"Because you know I hate it when you do that," Santana says.

"I accidentally saw her name on your phone when she texted you." When Santana just wordlessly stares at her pointedly, Rachel says, "Alright, alright, I kind of…looked through your inbox, but I didn't read any of your messages."

Santana only looks at Rachel with what seems like growing annoyance, so Rachel says, "Alright, alright, I just saw one message from her, okay?"

Santana stares at Rachel before she sighs. "I'm not cheating on you, if that's what's you're wondering about."

Rachel is silent for a while. "I wasn't…" she begins, defensively, but Santana cuts her off.

"Baby, we've been through this," Santana says patiently now. "I'm not, I won't, I _can't_, I wouldn't, I would _never_ cheat on you, okay?" When Rachel moves to speak, Santana closes her eyes for a few seconds, opens them and says, "Sissy's…my therapist…I've been going to her…these past few months…okay?"

Rachel's expression changes when Santana says this, and she opens the door ever so slightly as Santana continues to say, "I know I haven't…I know I haven't been myself lately…" she stops, pauses, before she continues, "Truth?"

Rachel nods.

"The truth is, Rach, I've been freaking out, okay?" Santana confesses. Rachel looks at her like this is the understatement of the year. Santana nods and says, "I know, I know, that's why…I got some help, okay? I know I have…issues, I have issues I need to deal with…so I talked to someone. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I just didn't want you to think I was some freak loser who couldn't deal with all of this. And I didn't want to stress you out. But I'm okay now and if you let me, I'd like to make it up to you now."

After a few minutes of silence, Rachel speaks softly, "You don't even _want_ this baby, do you?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Santana asks.

"Oh, don't play dumb with me, Santana," Rachel says now, resignation and defeat and exhaustion in her voice. She puts her hand on her back and rubs her back to soothe the pain. Why is her back so painful these days? She wonders. She continues, "You weren't one hundred percent onboard with this in the first place. I think when I couldn't get pregnant you were secretly relieved I couldn't. And now that I _am_ pregnant you don't want it."

"What?" Santana whispers. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is," Rachel insists now, with much certainty in her voice. "Yes it is," she says again, much more softly and sadly this time. She pauses, looks at Santana, feeling her eyes tear up. "I've seen how you look sometimes when you think I'm not looking. And I thought I could ignore it before, because you seemed happy about it but…"

Santana looks at her wife, really looks at her, and they stare at each other for what seems like forever, and Santana sees it, the hurt, the pain, the feeling of rejection in Rachel's eyes, and Santana feels sorry now. She sighs, thinks for a second before she says, softly, "I'm sorry, baby. Okay, I must admit, at first it freaked me out a bit, okay? You kind of blindsided me here. I mean, you went to the doctor without telling me _anything_. Which is so typical Rachel Berry. I mean, how was I supposed to react to _that?_"

"Because I knew you'd say no."

"Can you _blame_ me? We'd spent so much and had our hopes up so much I…"

Rachel cuts her off. "That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want to raise your hopes up again. But I didn't think you'd freak out like this."

Santana is silent. She purses her lips, folds her arms in front of her and looks down on the floor. Rachel speaks again.

"Do you want this baby?"

Santana does not reply, continues to stare at the floor.

Rachel takes a step forward again, plants herself firmly in front of Santana and through the painful ache in her chest, and the equally painful pain on her back, she softly asks Santana, almost choking on the last words, "Well, _do_ you? Because if you don't, you have to tell me now, so I know what to do."

Santana looks up, looks at Rachel, before saying, "What are you talking about? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Rachel shakes her head. "I'm not saying anything. I just…I just need to know if…if I should…"

Santana cuts her off, her eyes narrowing, her brows knitting as she looks steadily at Rachel."Because she's as much _my _child as she is yours, Rachel. You can't make decisions like that, not when it affects all of us. You can't keep her away from me like that…That's not fair…"

Rachel shakes her head now and takes a step back. Santana takes a step forward, looks at Rachel. "Rach, look at me," she softly asks Rachel. When Rachel does not move or speak, Santana raises her hand, and with her index finger, gently lifts Rachel's chin. Rachel lets her. Rachel lifts her face up, and Santana sees tears in her eyes. Santana sees Rachel's lower lip tremble, feels Rachel struggle not to cry, and Santana's heart breaks. She says, "Look, I was a jerk, okay? I should have told you about these things right from the get-go and I know I handled all this badly by freaking out and not talking to you about it but I just…it was just a whole bunch of things, okay? I was worried about your health. I was worried about you. I was worried I might lose you. And I wasn't sure if I was ready…because I'm not strong…"

Rachel manages to ask, choking over the words, "You're not strong?"

Santana nods, feeling her own eyes well up with tears. "Yes, I don't know if I'm…strong enough…because I can't…I can't lose you…I mean… I don't know if I can go through that again, baby, I seriously don't know if I can…" she pauses, swallows, looks Rachel in the eye and says, firmly, "But I'm ready now, and I'm sorry I hurt you and I love you and please don't be mad anymore and if you could just…give me a chance, like you did lots of times in the past…" and here Santana grins at Rachel and Rachel can't help but grin back, "Because I know I've fucked up…like big time, this time, but if you let me, I'd like to devote the rest of my life making it up to you, okay? And I do, I _do_ want this baby. More than anything, I want this baby with you. I mean, I love you Rach. I love you and this baby and I haven't met her but I'm pretty sure I'm going to love her as much as I love you."

When Rachel doesn't say anything and only looks at Santana, eyebrows knitted, tears trickling down her cheeks, Santana cups Rachel's face and wipes Rachel's tears with her thumbs.

Finally, Rachel says, "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"What?"

"I'm not going to let you get rid of me that easily," Rachel says now with a smile. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here, and I'm going to grow old with you, sagging breasts and wrinkles and wattles and gray hair and all…"

"_Eeww_, gross, just got a visual," Santana jokes now, making a face. Rachel hits her on the arm. "Ow!" Santana says.

Rachel smiles. "Have you eaten?"

Santana is surprised at first, then relieved, when Rachel just continues to smile and she realizes this is Rachel's way of telling her it's going to be okay. Santana nods. "Yes, but you know how crappy airline food is and…"

Rachel doesn't let her finish, instead she launches herself at Santana, engulfing Santana in a tight hug. There is a brief silence as Santana is surprised, then relieved, as she puts her own arms around Rachel as well, resting her head on the crook of Rachel's shoulder, inhaling her scent, and planting a soft kiss on Rachel's neck as she does so.

After a few minutes, Rachel pulls back, kisses Santana gently on the lips, before she leans back, grins at Santana and says, "How long did it take you to come up with that one?"

Santana grins. "A while. The whole flight from New York to Lima at least. I figured if my Oscar worthy speech wouldn't get to you, I could always serenade you with a Bruno Mars song."

Rachel chuckles. "Which one would that be?"

Santana chuckles, before she kisses Rachel again, lingers on her lips, kisses her again, and then leans back, smiling, studying Rachel's face, before she starts singing,

"_When I see your face_

_There's not a thing that I would change_

_'Cause you're amazing_

_Just the way you are_

_And when you smile_

_The whole world stops and stares for awhile_

_'Cause girl, you're amazing_

_Just the way you are…"_

Rachel listens to Santana singing the song, the smile on her face growing even wider, and when Santana finishes the chorus, Rachel nods approvingly before saying, "Nice. That's a good choice for a song, I think."

Santana grins back. "I thought so, too. I figure if that didn't work, I'll just sing another song that maybe you might like."

Rachel smiles. "Which one is that?"

Santana grins. "I just heard it on the radio, when Quinn was driving me over from the airport." Then she starts to sing Cheap Trick's "The Flame".

"_Another night slowly closes in,__  
And I feel so lonely.__  
Touching heat freezing on my skin,__  
I pretend you still hold me.__  
I'm going crazy, I'm losing sleep.__  
I'm in too far, I'm in way too deep over you.__  
I can't believe you're gone.__  
You were the first, you'll be the last._

_Wherever you go, I'll be with you._

_Whatever you want, I'll give it to you.__  
Whenever you need someone__  
To lay your heart and head upon.__  
Remember: after the fire, after all the rain,__  
I will be the flame.__  
I will be the flame."_

Rachel smiles. "That's a lovely song. Although I'm pretty sure I'm not your first."

Santana grins. "But you'll be the last."

Rachel beams at her wife at this confession as a blush starts to bloom on Santana's face. Rachel can sense this has been said in all sincerity because Santana seems to have realized how corny she has sounded, standing there all awkward and uncomfortable and blushing, but Rachel only puts a hand up and gently rubs Santana's cheek lovingly. Then she remembers what Santana has done and says, "You're such a jerk sometimes, San."

Santana grins. "I know. I'm sorry."

Rachel grins. "Okay. I'm sorry, too, about…Sissy. I don't know what came over me. I have a lot of feelings. They're just all over the place lately."

Santana rolls her eyes. "So I've noticed."

Rachel smiles apologetically. "And Mike's been telling me about his problems with Tina and how they're drifting apart and it's freaking me out and stressing me out and…"

Santana knits her eyebrows. "Because you think it might happen to us or something?"

Rachel sighs. "I know it's stupid. But I can't help it."

Santana smiles. "You just told me I wouldn't be able to get rid of you easily, so I don't think that's going to happen to us anytime, soon, or _ever_, okay?"

Rachel nods wordlessly.

"Besides, you forget I have my Mexican third eye, so I already know we're going to be together for a long, _long_ time," Santana says with a grin as she gathers Rachel in her arms. "And aren't you a little bit psychic, too? Shouldn't you know this all by now?"

Rachel laughs. "I guess."

Santana grins. "It's fate. It's inevitable. I'm hot and gorgeous, you're hot and gorgeous, it makes _sense_ and we're going to have this awesome family and we're going to be together for a long time."

Rachel smiles and tightens her hold on Santana and says, "I just saw Finn and Jacob Ben Israel and…"

Santana leans back. "Finn? Hudson? And Jewfro?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Honey, you know how I feel about you calling someone Jewfro."

Santana grins apologetically. "Sorry. Jacob the _Perv_. That perv from high school who had that thing for you. And Gigantor. You okay? Did they do anything weird?"

Rachel shakes her head. "It's fine. It just freaked me out a bit, because Finn was kind of….acting all psychotic and creepy but that's it. Mike and Sam were with me, so."

Santana nods her head. "Good. Yeah, Finn can be a bit creepy. Sometimes he lurks in bathrooms and stuff, too." Then she starts singing Radiohead's 'Creep' "'_Cause he's a freak...he's a weirdo...what the hell is he doing...? He doesn't belong here..._"

"Run, run, _ruuuuunn_,"Rachel sings.

Santana looks at Rachel. "Baby we've been through this. Don't ever sing a Radiohead song ever again," she says with a smile. When Rachel pouts, Santana only grins. "Anyway, remind me to take Mike out for drinks and buy Sam tickets to the next world figure skating championships as a small thank-you."

"Figure skating championships?" Rachel asks, puzzled.

"Yeah, don't ask me why. Apparently he likes watching the men's competition," Santana says, shrugging. "He also likes men's gymnastics."

"Huh, weird," Rachel comments, before she shrugs, looks at Santana, kisses her and says, "I've missed you, San."

Santana grins. "I've missed you, too, baby."

Rachel leans over and kisses her. "I missed you more."

"No, I missed _you_ more," Santana says. "And I saw a 'Facts of Life' rerun and I remembered how you wanted to be Blair to my Jo and…"

Rachel smiles and then she rolls her eyes and sighs. "Okay, first of all, stop being a geek for a sec and second of all, I'm not going to get into this. Maybe we can fast-forward to the make-up sex now?"

"God, yes, please," Santana says with a grin as Rachel grabs her hand and leads her to the bed. As she sits down on the bed and Rachel climbs up on to her lap and straddles her, and starts to kiss Santana, Santana grins and says, "Make-up sex is so worth fighting for…"

"Honey," Rachel says, pulling back. "Were you this talky before? I know you don't really talk much _during_."

Santana chuckles softly. "Yes, that's true, but you forget I have been with you eight years now, some things are bound to change."

"Just…shut up and kiss me already," Rachel says as she leans over and kisses Santana more hungrily.

Santana moans in appreciation as her right hand holds Rachel's thigh beneath her pants, touching the hem of Rachel's underwear beneath, as her other hand comes up and holds Rachel by the small of her back to steady her. Rachel begins to move from Santana's lips to her neck, then to her ears, and her hand moves to Santana's blouse, lifting it up a little to run her hand on Santana's smooth, olive skin. Santana's fingers start to tease the skin beneath Rachel's underwear, feels the warmth and moisture there, starts to rub circles against the skin, starts to press against the wetness and Rachel's breath catches, as she leans over and rests her head against Santana's shoulder, moaning softly in pleasure and whispering, "San," in Santana's ear.

But then, the door to their bedroom suddenly opens and Santana and Rachel both freeze and look up as Santana hurriedly takes her fingers out of Rachel's underwear and they both look to the door and it's Suzie, saying, "Hey, you guys, _Abuela_ says you have to come down because…"

But Suzie freezes as she sees her mothers in a very intimate position and for a second she doesn't know what to say, standing there, mouth opening and closing, as a blush starts to crawl up her neck. "Sorry."

"Don't you knock?" Santana asks, irritated as Rachel hurriedly climbs off of her.

"Don't you lock your door?" Suzie manages to mutter before she takes a step back and closes the door softly behind her. Then, Suzie knocks, very loudly this time and doesn't wait for the couple to say anything as she pushes the door back and says, with a smirk, "So glad you guys made up already. I don't think I can stand anymore of those awkward silences at the dinner table. I love you, guys!"

Santana just scowls at their daughter as Suzie grins and gives them both the thumb's up sign before she slams the door shut and stomps down the hallway, stairs and into the living room.

Rachel watches this exchange and laughs softly. Santana's scowl leaves her face when she sees Rachel just smiling at her. Then the smile on Rachel's face disappears as she winces slightly in pain and she puts her right hand on her back, winces and rubs her back methodically. Santana notices the gesture and says, "What's wrong?"

Rachel shakes her head, "It's nothing. It's just…my back hurts so much these days…like, all the time."

Santana nods sympathetically. Then Rachel stops, expression frozen, hand still on her back.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Santana asks, worriedly.

Rachel shakes her head. "It's nothing. I think I just felt the baby kick," she says now, other hand just below her swollen left breast. Thankfully, the baby seems to have moved in the right position and she could feel the baby kicking from the correct position. They hadn't actually needed the ECV she thinks. As she speaks, she feels Santana's hand over her own, and Rachel takes out her hand so Santana could feel the baby kick against her hand. Santana feels slightly surprised, then elated, at feeling their daughter kick against her hand.

"That's kind of cool," Santana comments now. "Freaky, but cool. It feels like something out of an 'Alien' movie."

Rachel laughs, shaking her head at Santana. "Weirdo," she says.

Santana only grins at her. Rachel puts her hand up, runs the back of her hand on Santana's cheek before she tucks a stray strand of Santana's hair behind her ear. Santana smiles, saying, "I love you" to her before Santana leans over and kisses her.

"I love you, too," Rachel says softly now, before she stops and says, "I've got to pee."

Santana nods, letting Rachel go.

Rachel nods back and goes back to the bathroom.

Santana falls back down on their bed. She sighs in relief. _Crisis averted_, she thinks. She thinks she's getting good at this, at working through her tangled web of inexplicable emotions, much more than before, and she's glad it's been dealt with before it got worse. She puts a hand up and rubs her temples, then the back of her neck, closes her eyes a bit. She now feels the exhaustion and sleepiness settle in and hasn't realized how tired she is until her body makes contact with the bed, all soft and comfortable and cozy. She thinks she starts to drift off to sleep, feels her body relax, feels her breathing even out as she slides into unconsciousness, but then a shout from the bedroom jerks her back to consciousness.

"What?" she asks groggily.

"San…"

"What?" she asks again, grudgingly getting up from the bed, leaning back with her arms supporting her weight on the bed. She blinks once, twice and sighs. "What's wrong?"

"Honey, can you come here, please?"

"Why? Stuck in the toilet bowl or something?" Santana jokes, as she yawns. She slowly gets up from the bed, and sluggishly heads to the bathroom. She pauses in front of the bathroom door and jokes, "Are you decent?" When Rachel doesn't answer, Santana pushes the door open and there, standing right before her, is Rachel, looking down at the puddle of water on the floor.

"What's wrong?" Santana asks, smiling. "Decided actually peeing on the toilet bowl was just too much trouble?" she jokes. "Because I'm not cleaning that up, baby."

When Rachel doesn't answer and only looks up at Santana, all troubled, the smile on Santana's face disappears. "Are you okay? Something wrong?"

"Honey," Rachel says. "I think my water just broke."

* * *

_**Author's end notes:**_

_**That's it for this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading! Reviews as always much appreciated and very much welcome, because:**_

_**Reviews + follows + favorites = motivation + encouragement = faster updates. So keep them coming, people. ;)**_

_**On a related note, many thanks for reading and reviewing chapter 4. It is much appreciated. And I just want to say…all the trivia that the characters have been spewing since forever in this 'verse, are all true, by the way. Because I'm a geek like that.**_

_**Also, again, many thanks to the beta, DragonsWillFly for going over this even though you've been sick the whole time. Here's hoping you get better!**_

_**Now on to your comments:**_

_**To Joselely, xphrnzrjh, sammywammy1120, frustratedwriter13 , blushyskittle3321, j1020 and baxterj - Hi, everyone! Thanks for reading and reviewing chapter 4. I really appreciate it. I'm glad you all found it all around adorable. I hope this chapter has answered your questions about Rachel and the cliffhanger from last chapter. :) So, please don't be mad anymore. :) Also, to j1020 - thanks for the compliment, and no, I don't do sequels strictly as such, think of this verse as one continuous story, divided into parts, each part ending only when the character growth (and the point I'm trying to get across)and story are done, preparing the characters for the next part of their journey. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed chapter 5 as well. Cheers!**_

_**To pictureofsuccess - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing chapter 4. Hope the wait for Chapter 5 was worth it. :) And yes, setting things up perfectly is kind of my thing. :)As for Suzie getting busted and Rachel talking to her - yes, it's sad, but Suzie has always been a curious kid, and she's now a teenager, so there's bound to be some situations like this. :) Anyway, again, thanks and hope you enjoyed Chapter 5 as well! Cheers!**_

_**To kutee - Hey! Welcome back! Thanks so much for reading both Chapters 3 and 4 and for reviewing Chapter 4. As for Santana's work - yes, I thought it was time to expand on that, as well as expand on her getting some help. I had that back story in my head since "In the Loop" anyway, so. Glad you loved the people at the office, too! "Parks and Recreations" is a cool show, thanks for bringing that up. Glad you loved the Pezberry lunchtime scene! I enjoyed writing it. As for Suzie and Kate - hee, it was bound to happen sooner or later, but yeah, she needed that talk with Rachel, obvs. As for Pitch Perfect, Lily and her V angels is my favorite scene, too! That made me laugh so hard! Because, obviously, when life gives you barf, make barf angels! Hahaha! It makes so much sense! Cannot stress enough how much I love that movie! ;) Anyway, hope you enjoyed Chapter 5, too. Cheers!**_

_**To kickangel - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing chapter 4. Sorry for being evil. Haha! I know what you mean about reading completed stories, so I try as much as possible to update and finish stories, and I'm glad you trust me with this story. I'm very clear about the direction this story is making and how it will pan out, so don't worry about that. I must say the reviews help a lot though in helping me continue the story, so. Re: references - yes, I do love my references! Ahah! As for Santana getting some help, that needed to be done because she's had experience losing a loved one, so. As for sexy, adorable Pezberry at lunch - glad you liked that! As for the new eps of Glee, yes, they've been watchable as of late, but season 1 it ain't. I only watch Santana. **_**:)**_**Re: Suzie and Kate - yes, that was an interesting story to write, but Suzie's a teenager now, so, she's bound to experiment but yeah, I've always wanted her parents to be there for her, even through this. Re: penetrate - hahaa! I knew you'd like that! I did that on purpose obviously. Anyway, hope you liked chapter 5 as well. Cheers!**_

_**To yanval - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing Chapter 4. It is much appreciated. Also, no problem with the grammar, spelling - it's all good and cool. :) As for the blessings - no worries, it wasn't a problem at all. We need all the blessings we can get. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. Take care and hope you enjoy your Holy Week.**_

_**To parker88 - Hi. Thanks for reading and reviewing Chapter 4. Santana would truly be awesome, as a lawyer I think. Yes,we're moving right along with the pregnancy. Haha! Re: Suzie - yes, she IS growing up isn't she? Anyway, hope you enjoyed chapter 5, too! Cheers!**_

_**Songs featured for this chapter:**_

_**"The Flame" cover by Bellefire (original version by Cheap Trick) (because, yes, I like power ballads okay?)**_

_**"Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars (reprise)**_

_**"O, Holy Night" as sung by Lea Michele (we all know she actually has a version of this from Season 4, so!)**_


	6. Pt 1: Holding On, Never Giving Up

_**Author's note: Dear readers, apologies for the delay. Here's Chapter 6 for you. Hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

Santana wakes up slowly from restless dreams of disjointed male voices that suspiciously sound like Mike's, Sam's and Dave's singing a mash-up of Wilson Phillips, Tom Waits, Alabama Shakes, John Lennon and Boyce Avenue, interspersed with Rachel singing "Keep Holding On" and visions of babies, snow and umbilical cords when someone roughly shakes her shoulders and a voice, as from a distance, an echo, says, "Santana, wake up." At first she thinks she's still dreaming and so she pulls what fabric is on her body, covers her head with it and sleepily mumbles, "Baby, I'm too tired to have sex right now, but I promise you I'll make it up to you later…"

But the person continues to shake her awake, continues unabated until she realizes she really isn't dreaming, and that somebody is actually actively manhandling her. She realizes she is awake now, and won't be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, but she closes her eyes determinedly and pleads, "Baby, _please_, I was up all night and I'm really tired but if you insist, then you have to do all the work because I'm too tired to move…I'm just going to lie here, okay…?...Yes, baby, I think you're hot…"

When the voice finally breaks through her consciousness, and it's the unmistakable voice of Quinn saying, with much disgust in her voice, "_Eeewww_…I did _not_ need to know that, Santana, seriously…" Santana suddenly realizes it is not Rachel trying to wake her up in the middle of the night, but Quinn. She blinks once, twice, pulls down the fabric covering her and realizes it is a hospital blanket one of the nurses had thoughtfully given her and as she squints her eyes against the early morning light, screws up her eyes, tries to get her bearings, takes in the surroundings, the chair that now seems so uncomfortable, the tiled floors, the white ceiling, the fluorescent light, the window, covered by a light blue curtain, streaming and filtering soft early morning sunlight as if the snowstorm last night had not happened at all, the bare, sterile surroundings, the anti-septic smell and a couple of meters away or so, in the middle of the room, sleeping soundly and peacefully on her hospital bed, is Rachel, in a light blue hospital gown and blanket, her head turned away from Santana. She had slept beside Rachel until Rachel had fallen asleep, but had wanted Rachel to be comfortable and be able to get some rest after the long night that she had, so she had opted to sleep on the chair, relieved that it was all over. She rotates her head, feels sore from having slept in a sitting position and starts to yawn and stretch, wincing as her body pops from the exertion.

Quinn is standing before her, her dark brown coat slung over the foot rest of the hospital bed, as she stares down at Santana, a smirk on her face as she purses her lips together in apparent amusement at catching a rare moment of Santana in an unguarded, sleepy moment.

"What are you smiling at?" Santana asks her grumpily between yawns, running a hand on her dark hair.

"Oh, nothing, just amused at those totally unnecessary, accidental little bits of information about your sex life with Rachel you let slip once in a while…which…gross by the way," Quinn says, making a face.

Santana only rolls her eyes, as she mimes going to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she comes out with a freshly washed face and looking a bit more awake than before, although there are dark circles under her slightly bloodshot eyes and she still looks exhausted and sleepy. She grabs her coat from the chair and motions to Quinn to follow her to the door. Quinn nods, as she shoves the steaming cup of hot coffee in front of the other woman. "Good morning."

Santana nods and grins as she accepts the cup of coffee, muttering an embarrassed "thank you" to Quinn as they quietly leave the room as she takes a sip of the coffee but then she spits out the coffee and hisses, "What the fuck is this shit, Q?"

Quinn smirks. "Americano. Just like you want it."

"Oh, fuck you, Q," Santana says as Quinn smirks. She takes a sip of the coffee nonetheless and says, "You know I don't do Americano. That shit is crap. I drink pretty much anything else but Americano."

"Santana, I hate to break it to you, but I'm not your wife. It's not my job to get your coffee drink right," Quinn hisses with a smirk, "If you want to get the right drink, ask your wife."

Santana scowls at her as she drinks her coffee.

"You want to grab a bite to eat at the cafeteria or something?" Quinn asks now. When Santana nods gratefully, but then at the last moment, remembers her wife, Quinn says, matter-of-factly, "Leave a message at the nurses' station or something, text her or something, plus she can text you if she wants, don't worry about it."

As Santana stands there, uncertain, Quinn rolls her eyes and comments, "Your devotion to your Jew can be positively nauseating, Santana."

"Hey, aren't you a little bit Jewish, too?"

"Shut up," Quinn says. "You need to eat, S."

Santana nods mechanically again, fishes her mobile phone from her pocket and does as Quinn asks. Later, when they do pass by the nurses' station, she leaves a message and the nurse, a young, bright-eyed redhead grins and nods, taking note of what Santana has said.

* * *

A few minutes later, they are at the cafeteria and Santana is wolfing down pancakes with her second cup of coffee and as she does so, the expression on Quinn's face changes and there is a look of genuine concern on her face as she asks, "How are you? How is Rachel?"

"She's okay," Santana says, as she takes a sip of her coffee, whilst running one hand on her hair. "She was in labor all night and it was kind of tough and…"

As Santana's voice trails off, she finds herself sighing, too tired to actually recount the exhausting, stressful, nerve-wracking events of the night before. Quinn doesn't ask her for more details, only nods her head sympathetically in understanding. One of the things that Santana has always liked about Quinn is the fact that over the years, their friendship has gotten to the point where she doesn't even need to say anything and Quinn readily understands whatever she is trying to convey. It doesn't escape both their notice that the last time they'd seen each other in a hospital was when Brittany had been terminally ill, and both had developed an aversion for hospitals, although now, both are equally thankful Rachel and the baby are fine.

Quinn only sits in front of her now, face full of concern, before she asks, with a slow smile spreading on her face, "How is she?"

As Quinn's question sinks in, Santana realizes who Quinn is referring to.

Their baby. Hers and Rachel's. The baby who, against all odds, had been born with only the tiniest of complications and is now in intensive care, in the best of care, after having been born three weeks too early. The baby weighed in at about five pounds and when she finally came out, she had cried so softly, so delicately that Santana, standing beside her exhausted wife in her hospital gown and surgical mask, felt her heart seize at the sight. As Dr. Patel, their doctor, had handed her the umbilical cord to cut, Santana felt her hand tremble, felt the scissors shake in her hand as she moves to cut the cord. Rachel, weak and sweaty and emotional, lies on the bed, half-crying from exhaustion and relief and pure, unadulterated joy as the doctor shows her their baby and she is able to briefly hold her before she gently tells her that the baby now has to go to intensive care. Rachel had nodded and reluctantly lets the baby go, watching the nurse take the baby away from the room, before she blindly gropes for Santana's arm, pulls her toward her and silently sobs in Santana's arms, from exhaustion or relief or happiness or all of the above, Santana doesn't know, but she holds her wife quietly, gently, because she feels the same way, too and is more than relieved that her wife and the baby are both alright.

* * *

Later, in Rachel's hospital room, Rachel, with Santana and Suzie, are assured by Dr. Patel that the baby is fine and will probably only stay in the hospital for a little under a week, and they are only taking these precautions because she had been born premature, is a little underweight and a little weak and needs all the care she needs. Dr. Patel says the baby seems healthy and strong, but that the parents need to be extra careful and extra vigilant because since it is winter, their baby will be more susceptible to illness than a normal baby.

"And while we're on the subject, what's the baby's name anyway?" Dr. Patel asks now, with a smile on her face. "Have you thought of a name for her?"

Rachel and Santana only smile, and Rachel shakes her head and says, "We haven't thought of a name, yet."

Dr. Patel nods in understanding, twirls her pen in her hand, and says, "Ah. Okay. I understand. No rush. Take your time. Names are everything after all. Name is destiny and all that. Let me know though if you've come up with a name for your baby." She then glances at her watch before she tells the couple, "I've got to go, I'll check up on your baby, you can see her later, I think. You guys take care, okay? And take it easy."

The couple nods at Dr. Patel as she waves at them and when the door closes, Suzie, who has been silent this whole time (she had insisted on staying, wanting to know that both Rachel and the baby are okay, before she goes home), speaks up.

"Sarah."

Both Rachel and Santana, who have both forgotten that Suzie was even in the room, both turn at the teenaged girl now, leaning by the window, arms crossed in front of her, looking a bit like Brittany with her long, tousled dark blonde hair, and the casual expression on her face, as if she has just said something that is supposed to be matter-of-fact for both her mothers.

"Sorry, what, sweetie?" Rachel asks.

"Sarah," Suzie says again, more confidently and earnestly now. "My baby sister's name should be Sarah. From your names, mom, Santana and Rachel. Sa-_rah_. Like when you and Mommy named me Susanna Marie, because of Mommy Britt and your name. Her name should totally be Sarah."

"Sarah?" Santana asks.

"Yeah, Sarah," Suzie says now. "Sarah Elizabeth Blue. Berry Lopez." When both her mothers look at her in silence, not knowing what to say, Suzie shrugs and says, "It makes so much sense."

As Rachel and Santana look at their daughter, who, now feeling conscious at the attention both her mothers are giving her, unfolds her arms and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, staring down at the floor and scuffing the floor with the toe of her shoes. As they both look at her, and consider the name Suzie has suggested, Rachel and Santana look at each other and realize, right at that moment, that they had found the right names for their younger daughter. A slow smile spreads on Rachel's face and it is matched by the same smile on Santana's face.

"It _does_ make sense," Santana tells Suzie now, with a smile on her face. Suzie looks up and smiles back in relief.

"It's _perfect_," Rachel says now, with delight.

Santana smiles at her wife and daughter, before the smile disappears from her face and she clears her throat and says, "But maybe we should lose the 'Blue' part."

Suzie makes a face now. "Why?" she demands to know. "That's the best part."

What follows after is one of the more interesting arguments the family has ever had, ending with Suzie eventually getting her way.

And that was how Sarah Elizabeth Blue Berry Lopez came to be named.

* * *

It is when Quinn clears her throat that Santana is brought back to the present and she sees Quinn impatiently waiting for an answer to a question that she had probably asked Santana when Santana's thoughts had drifted to thoughts of her wife and children. _Children_, she thinks. She has two _children_ now. The thought makes her smile and feel excited and a bit anxious at the same time. But then Quinn glares at her and Santana gives her the update on her second daughter. Sarah is fine, she tells Quinn, aside from being born a few weeks too early, a premmie, they call her, she is healthy and strong and will be out in a few days. The infant testing the hospital has conducted that everything about Sarah is fine.

Quinn nods now, sighing a sigh of relief. "That's great," she says. "For a minute there, I was thinking of the worst."

"Ah, my best friend, Quinn, always the bastion of positivity and optimism," Santana says, sarcastically.

Quinn only smirks. "I'm glad both she and Rachel are okay, though," she says now, expression changing to one of genuine concern. Santana nods. Quinn smiles. "I still can't believe they got you to name the child _Blue_ though. You are _so_ whipped, Santana!"

As Quinn smirks, Santana only glares and rolls her eyes, and says, "Fuck you, Quinn."

Quinn laughs softly before saying, "You have to clean up your language though, S. You want this one to _not_ actually take after you. I mean, at this point, it's too late for Suzie, really…"

Santana scowls at Quinn even more before she says, "Go take a long walk on a short pier, Quinn."

Quinn looks at her only and says, "People actually still _say_ that?" When Santana only stares at her, not knowing what to say, Quinn only says, "Fine. I'm laying off of you. For now. How was the night?"

As Quinn gestures to the door and they go out so they can talk more freely, Santana says, "Fuck, what do you think? We were stuck with Sam, Mike, Dave, my dad and Suzie. In a snowplow truck. In a freaking _snowstorm_. How do you think that went down?"

Quinn only laughs. "I'm sorry. Stupid question. The more appropriate question is, how did you even _survive_ it?"

Santana shakes her head. "Honestly? I don't know. But between everyone singing every available song about holding on, just to keep, I don't know, 'morale up' and Sam singing Wilson Phillip's song, 'Hold On' and Mike spouting trivia about that guy from the Mamas and Papas introducing his kids to drugs and consensual incest, I couldn't decide whether I wanted to euthanize them all or laugh or cry or scream or die from all the stress and tension. And I don't think I can listen to 'Hold On' the same way ever again."

Quinn throws back her head and laughs before nodding sympathetically. "Consensual incest. Eeeww."

"That's as gross as statutory rape," Santana comments now. "And I hate you for not coming by the way. The boys would have behaved a little bit more I think. Everyone's terrified of you."

Quinn laughs some more. "And well they should be!" She then looks at her best friend and says, "Well, don't keep me waiting in suspense! Tell me all about your nerve-wracking trip from hell with the geeks, your spawn, your dad and man-hands."

So, as they have breakfast, Santana recounts what happened that night.

* * *

At first, Santana hadn't understood what was happening.

Well, she _did_, it wasn't like it was her first time to have a wife go into labor, but at the back of her mind, the one concrete thought that kept going over and over in her head was, "This _can't_ be happening", and "It's too _soon_", because Rachel is only eight months pregnant and she isn't due for at least a few weeks more, and so she kind of just stands there, frozen, staring at her wife, not really comprehending anything.

But then Rachel's face had suddenly crumpled in pain and she kind of blindly reaches out to steady herself and she lets out this agonized wail, the kind of wail she remembers Quinn doing when she had gone into labor with Beth, and Santana comes forward to hold her and Rachel grips her arms so strongly Santana realizes she really _is_ having the baby now. And then there is a knock on the door, and the doorknob turns and it is Suzie and she is about to say something but she sees her mothers by the bathroom, Rachel in serious pain and Santana, all worried and anxious and Suzie looks at them and asks, "What's going on?" She doesn't let them answer though and asks, more like a statement than a question, "Mom's gone into labor, hasn't she?" Suzie doesn't even let them answer that one as well as she says, "But…it's too soon…it's too soon…"

It's too soon. It's too soon. It's the one thing that keeps getting repeated by everyone who is currently gathered in the Lopez home, snowed in by the snowstorm currently happening outside. The next agonized moan emanating from Rachel makes Suzie spring into action.

All hell breaks loose after that.

Dr. Lopez, Mrs. Lopez, Quinn come to the rescue and the boys, Mike, Sam, Jeffrey and Dave come as well and it is total pandemonium, with Sam doing his Tom Hank's impersonation ("Houston, we've got a problem!"), Quinn cussing at him ("Sam, fucking stop with the Tom Hanks impersonations and help or something!"), Mrs. Lopez chiding Quinn ("Language, Quinn."), Quinn apologizing to Mrs. Lopez and so on.

Things had not gone exactly as planned.

Rachel had not carried the baby to term, had not been able to have the home birth she had wanted, she didn't have Dr. Westheimer with her, there was a snow storm and they were snowed in, and whilst Quinn had instructed Mike to call 911, Sam to start the car and Dave to help them, the snow storm had gotten worse, the ambulance was stuck somewhere in a ditch covered in snow, the power had gone out, and the boys and Dr. Lopez were leading Rachel down the staircase in candlelight and flashlights. They hadn't even been able to follow the drill Rachel had made everyone practice. When Sam had come back complaining that he couldn't start the car, Quinn had scowled at him and snapped, "Well, then get a fucking shovel, you moron! If we have to tunnel through out of here, we will!"

Santana doesn't know how everything else happens, so afraid, so anxious and so nervous is she for Rachel and the baby, that she couldn't really focus on anything but is grateful that Quinn, Dr. Lopez and Mrs. Lopez help her as she stays by her wife's side, giving her encouraging words, holding her, assuring her everything is going to be alright, even though the snowstorm was in full swing, and the power flickered on and off and she was fearful for her wife and baby's lives. But there had been no time to wallow too deep in fear, because there was a wife to support, and a goal: to get her wife to the hospital, that needed to be accomplished.

The snow storm is now fourteen inches thick by Sam's last estimate and the power failure hadn't helped either, and Dr. Lopez, who had been timing Rachel's contractions, assures everyone the contractions are too far apart for them to really start worrying, but he knows as well as Santana does that they need to get Rachel to the hospital now if they are to give her and the baby, but especially the baby, the best possible chance of surviving, whilst Rachel sat alternately doubled over or slumped on the couch in the living room, wincing, face contorted in pain, voice hoarse and out of breath, pained face indescribable as she groans, "Oh, god, I don't think…I don't think…The pain…! The unbelievable excruciating _pain_…!"

And Mike deigns to joke that giving birth is like giving birth to a watermelon through your nose, Rachel manages to say "You _suck_! You suck, you suck, you suck!" as Quinn and Santana try to glare at Mike in the darkness. Somebody, Santana cannot remember who, remembers to actually start recording the whole ghastly affair on video and so now, Santana and Rachel have Rachel going into labor recorded for all eternity. A number of times Santana and Mike have actually tried to take the camera away from Sam, but Sam had managed to continue recording the event secretly, earning Santana's ire later.

Finally hope comes in the form of Dave Karofsky, who had disappeared unnoticed by the others, only to come back with the sound of howling wind and a flurry of snowflakes and a massive snowplow truck designed to plow through the thickest snow in the worst kind of blizzard and Dave, Mike, Sam, Dr. Lopez and Suzie end up going in the snowplow truck with Rachel and Santana, Dave driving as Mike and Sam try to cheer Rachel up. Rachel had not been surprisingly talky or noisy in labor as everyone had expected her to be. In fact, she had only gritted her teeth in pain and held on to her back or clutched at Santana as waves of pain assailed and occasionally announced how painful it all is.

* * *

The ride to the hospital is long, agonizing, as they make slow, steady progress over the inches of snow that are now covering the road, the windshield wiper wiping the window furiously as gusts of snow continue to attack the monster truck. It is equally nerve-wracking and stressful as Rachel actually giving birth before her due date, with the boys trying their damned best to make her and Rachel feel better with their encouraging pep talks that range from the mundane ("Dude, hang in there, hold on, we'll get there soon," Dave says) to all the boys and Santana's dad singing songs about holding on as Sam holds the video camera in front of him and records everything that happens in the truck.

The nightmare starts with Sam and Mike bursting into impromptu singing when they turn on the radio and it is playing Tom Waits' "Hold On" and then Dr. Lopez decides to join the concert and there is nothing even _more_ nerve-wracking than three grown men singing a popular song from a television series about dystopia and both Santana and Rachel look at all of them in horror and wince at all of them singing as they start singing the chorus, _"Oh you got to…Hold on, Hold on…You got to hold on…Take my hand, I'm standing right here…You gotta hold on…"_

"Ugh, honey, this is how it's all going to end, isn't it? Our friends and your dad singing a Tom Waits song as I go into labor," Rachel had muttered as she winces in pain at the back of the driver's seat and Santana can only nod and say, in reply, "This is a nightmare."

Suzie had joined in by announcing, "I'll have you know this is the weirdest thing I have ever been a part of…And that includes having Raj glue himself to himself and hoisting a guy up a flagpole by his underwear."

As if to make things worse, Sam launches into the Wilson Philips' song, "Hold On" _"I know this pain…Why do you lock yourself up in these chains?...No one can change your life except for you.." _that makes Rachel stare at Sam in disbelief, is speechless for a few moments, before she declares, "This could _not_ get any worse."

Santana only glares at Sam as she holds on to her wife, who is alternately cursing Sam under her breath and wincing in pain. It only gets worse when Mike breaks into trivia about the father of one of the singers of Wilson Philips introducing her to drug use and consensual incest that just makes everyone groan in disgust, before they all continue singing the song and Santana says, "Apparently it can."

A shockwave of pain hits Rachel then and her fingers grip Santana's arm as she leans over and lets out a low moan of pain. Sam stops, leans over, now concerned, and Mike does the same and Sam asks, "Are you okay?"

Through the haze of pain, Rachel says, between gritted teeth, "Oh, god, this hurts so bad. You could take the worst menstrual cramps, multiply that by a thousand or a million and it _still_ wouldn't compare…"

There is a silence as she struggles not to cry out in pain, and Santana creases her forehead in pain, and Rachel takes in lungfuls of air, inhaling and exhaling at timed intervals, and all they can hear is the engine and the snow crunching outside and the wind and Rachel breathing heavily, whilst the others continue to sing, although the worry is apparent in their faces.

"Oh, god, honey, I don't know what's worse, being in labor, or being stuck in a monster snowplow truck with Mike, Sam and Dave singing Wilson Philips to me," Rachel had said. "And no, Sam, you cannot possibly know this pain."

"I'm so sorry, baby," Santana had said, apologetically. "Next time we do this, I swear I'll have them all locked up or at least in another state…"

"There's not going to _be_ a next time!" Rachel had snapped at her then as she catches her breath and pauses, letting the pain wrack her body.

"Sorry, sorry," Santana says.

"Whoever said being a mom is the greatest thing in the world and there's something profound and primal and fulfilling and compelling in being one was just talking _bullshit_," Rachel says now.

There's a collective gasp and an ensuing brief silence from everyone, before Santana manages to say, "Baby, _you_ said, there was something profound and primal and fulfilling and compelling about being pregnant and being a mom…"

"Well, I _lied!_" Rachel snapped.

Santana looks at her, shocked, before she just shrugs and tries to help Rachel calm down.

The group had been silent again for a few minutes, and Santana thinks is going to be okay, but then, her own _father_, Dr. Lopez suddenly breaks into song and starts singing John Lennon's song, "Hold On," to Santana and Rachel's consternation and exasperation, changing the lyrics up to _"Hold on Rachel…Rachel hold on…It's gonna be alright…You gonna win the fight…"_ The others of course join, in the chorus, a silence ensues, before all four, Dr. Lopez, Mike, Sam and Dave shout, as one, "Cookie!". There is a silence after this part of the song, before Suzie starts to dissolve in laughter and despite themselves, Rachel and Santana also start to chuckle and Rachel manages to say, "I hate all of you right now. I really do. You are all being _uninvited_ to the christening of our baby."

"Yes, thanks everyone, now we know there are a lot of songs about holding on," Santana says now, with a smile.

Sam only chuckles and starts singing Alabama Shakes "Hold On" and Rachel surprises everyone by saying, "I actually know this song."

"Of course you do," Sam had said, without losing a beat as he continues the song, and when he gets to the part where he has to sing, "_Yeah! You got to wait! Yeah! You got to wait!_" Rachel gamely sings, "_But I don't wanna wait! No, I don't wanna wait...!_" and the others start laughing again and Suzie says, "Seriously, this is like the strangest thing _ever_." When the others only grin at her, she says, "What's the worst thing than being trapped with adults during a snowstorm? It's being trapped in a truck with a bunch of adults who used to do glee club together."

Thankfully, the truck arrives at the hospital right as Sam starts to sing Avril Lavigne's "Keep Holding On" ("As sung by Boyce Avenue!" Sam emphasizes) and Rachel and Santana almost whoop in joy, realizing the seemingly endless drive was over.

Suzie only stares at them all, and says, half-jokingly, during a break in the singing, "Yeah, officially the weirdest thing I've ever witnessed like, since forever…"

* * *

When they get to the hospital, and Sam and Mike get out and manage to get one of the orderlies to help out with Rachel and they bring her into the emergency room as Santana talks to the desk and gives them their insurance information and the details of the pregnancy. Dr. Lopez and the rest of the boys and Suzie accompany Rachel all the way to the delivery room, watching as the nurses and doctor wheel Rachel into the room, all standing outside uncertainly, then the doctor in charge of the delivery comes out, a middle-aged woman who looks a bit like she is from South Asia, asks everyone, "Who's Santana? Santana's the father? She's calling for the father…"

At about the same time, Santana walks in and everyone looks at her, and Sam says, "She's the father…" as Mike and Suzie point towards her.

The doctor, whose name is Dr. Patel, pauses for a moment, looks at Santana, then smiles and says, "Lucky you. Come with me."

Rachel is in labor the whole night. Mike, Sam, Dave, Dr. Lopez and Suzie stay and wait by the visitor's lounge, and they spend the night there, waiting for news about Rachel and the baby, even though Santana had told them could all go home. But Mike and Sam say they have nowhere to go anyway, and Dave says Kurt's flight was cancelled, and the snowstorm is still not letting up, so they succeed in being allowed to stay, on the condition that Santana buy Sam tickets to "Disney On Ice". They only leave when the doctor finally announces that both the mother and the baby are out of danger. Suzie opts to stay behind to make sure her baby sister is okay and to see for herself that her mother is fine as well. No amount of convincing or cajoling from her mother ("Some lawyer you are," Sam jokes, "You can't even convince your own daughter to go home," which earns him a scowl from Santana) or her grandfather could make Suzie go home, and only does so when she sees Rachel and listens to Dr. Patel again.

Thankfully, the baby's head had gone down, and though Rachel had been given the option of having Ceasarian, she insisted she would have a natural birth, and so through the blinding, unbelievable pain, Dr. Patel and Santana stay by her side, and finally, at three o'clock early in the morning, a few days just before Christmas, Rachel gives birth to a healthy, little baby girl who is so tiny they had to have her incubated just to make sure she's okay. Rachel is exhausted, and sleepy and so she drops off to sleep the minute all the excitement dies down, and since they seriously haven't thought of any name for the baby yet, Suzie blurts out "Baby Blue" so the nurses, who now know the baby as the little snowstorm baby that could, call the baby "Baby Blue Berry Lopez".

It is only after, when they wheel Rachel out of the delivery room, and Santana trudges out after them, taking off the surgical mask and the surgical cap and wiping the sweat off of her forehead and taking a deep breath, does she notice her shaking, clammy fingers and her trembling legs and the loud, frantic pounding of her heart against her ribcage and she realizes, all this time, that she had been nervous and worried and afraid for her wife and daughter all this time. She doesn't really pray, or believe in miracles or the supernatural, but as she makes her way down the hallway and into the lounge where her family and friends are waiting for word about Rachel and the baby, she makes a silent, grateful prayer to God that her wife and child are both safe and sound.

* * *

When Santana is done recounting the parts when she, Rachel and the others were on their way to the hospital, Quinn is quiet for a few minutes first, before she lets out a delighted laugh that surprises Santana - clear, happy, relieved, amused, as she shakes her head at Santana and looks at her in disbelief.

"My god, Santana, that's quite a story you can tell Blue someday," Quinn says now, with a smile on her face. "How was Rachel through all this? Did she make those funny faces she makes whenever she's in pain? No, wait, she makes funny faces whenever she feels any kind of emotion, so. I'm guessing she did. She must have been very disappointed nothing went according to plan. Including those drills she wanted everyone to follow!"

As Santana only rolls her eyes, Quinn stops and looks over Santana's shoulder, smiles at something beyond Santana and nods her head, and Santana knits her eyebrows, curious, before she turns her head, and there, a few meters away, approaching them, are Mike, Sam and Suzie with coffee and sandwiches.

"Speak of the devils," Quinn says now.

When the guys and Suzie get to the table, Suzie gives her mother a kiss and a hug and a "Hey, Mom" and goes to Quinn and gives her a hug as well, "Hey, Aunt Q" whilst the guys take a seat each opposite each other, coffee and sandwich in front of them as they continue what they are discussing, in a spirited, animated fashion, nodding to the women briefly and setting their backpacks down on the floor before continuing with their discussion.

"What are you doing here?" Santana asks Suzie now, with a smile. "Shouldn't you be at home bullying your cousin or giving your _Abuela_ a headache? Or, I don't know, causing trouble or something?"

Suzie rolls her eyes at her mom and says, "I would have, but _Abuela_'s mom, is at home, too, and she kind of insists on telling me Bible stories and stuff, and I still don't believe a great flood happened and all the animals of the world got on one boat and that guy with the long hair lost all his strength when they cut his hair…I think that's all a bunch of baloney…"

Santana smirks as Quinn makes a sharp intake of breath, surprised at Suzie's comment.

"I take it you're an atheist then?" Quinn asks Suzie now.

Suzie shakes her head. "No. I believe in God. I just don't believe in some of those stories in the Bible. They sound like kid stuff."

"This from a girl who believes in life in other planets and life after death," Santana comments.

"Well, that makes way more sense, Mom," Suzie says now, with a smile. "I mean, the galaxy? All that space? I can't believe there isn't at least one planet where there isn't at least some form of life or something. Seems like an awful waste of space. And of course I believe in life after death. How else will I see Mommy again?"

Santana and Quinn smile fondly at the girl as she looks to Santana, raises her eyebrows and indicates Santana's plate of waffles and Santana smiles at her daughter and nods. Suzie grins and grabs the plate and starts wolfing down the waffles.

The guys give no indication of letting up on their discussion so Santana and Quinn look at them, curious.

"What the hell are they talking about?" Santana asks Suzie now.

"The most ridiculous science fiction plots in soap operas," Suzie says now with a sigh. "They made me listen to all that on the way here. Unfortunately. Uncle Mike gave us a ride, so I was stuck with them, as they discussed demon possession and mind control in 'Days of Our Lives', mutants and aliens in 'Guiding Light', an alien in 'General Hospital', and every single episode of 'Passions' _ever_." Suzie rolls her eyes in characteristic Santana fashion before she looks at her mother, then Quinn and says, "Somewhere in the middle of all that was an interesting discussion on amputated penises that I'd rather not go into. There was much enthusiastic discussion on pimple reduction and removal, too. It had something to do with papaya and egg whites and lemon juice. They kind of waxed poetic about my zits. It was uncomfortable." Suzie makes a face. "I still can't believe you guys both dated Sam. Thankfully not simultaneously. And also, Mom, the better question to ask is, what is Uncle Sam _wearing?_"

Both Santana and Quinn look at Sam now and at first glance, his shirt, is a normal 'Captain America' tee shirt, which is normal for Sam, but upon closer inspection, they see that Sam is wearing what appears to be a cross between leggings and skinny jeans, with strange, cryptic designs.

Santana looks at him now, and says, "What is he _wearing_?" She then clears her throat and says, a bit louder, "What the hell are you wearing, Sam?"

Sam and Mike reluctantly break off their discussion on science fiction plots in soap operas, and Sam looks at Santana, exasperated, before he puts out one leg and says, "Hejeans!"

Santana and Quinn both look at Sam now and say, "What?"

Sam rolls his eyes and says, "These are sci-fi skinny jeans, dude! This design is the double helix, you know, the building blocks of DNA and stuff…so helix plus jeans - hejeans!"

"More like, helix plus leggings - heggings!" Suzie quips now.

"They look like leggings, _dude_," Santana says sarcastically now.

"…And also gay," Quinn adds, with a smirk.

"No, they're not," Sam says defensively now. "They're kind of awesome!"

"Yeah!" Mike says, jumping to his defense, albeit uncertainly. "I mean…they look…cool…" but then he breaks off and says, "I'm sorry, dude. They look awful. And also…gay."

"Really gay," Santana says. "I mean a million gay jokes just popped into my head."

"They're not gay!" Sam insists now. "Kurt designed them for me. He's also making muscle jeans, and anatomy shirts, with the heart and the liver and the lungs and stuff, so I can look like Slim Goodbody and I told him I'd wear his jeans if they had the galaxy in them and so he's making me galaxy jeans! He's currently at work on a nipple leather shirt even as we speak!"

This information is met by a silence at the table, with everyone not knowing what to say, before Santana finally breaks the silence and says, "I can't believe I used to date you Sam."

"You sure Kurt wasn't mocking you or anything when he designed those for you?" Quinn asks now, quirking an eyebrow at Sam. As the others laugh, Quinn continues, half-jokingly, "I hope Dave isn't getting jealous of the amount of designs and I'm guessing time? That Kurt is devoting to you right now, Sam."

Sam shakes his head. "Nah. He's cool with it."

"Yes, it's official, Kurt is designing for geeks!" Mike says, as everyone starts to laugh. Then they laugh even harder as Mike adds, "_Gay_ geeks!"

"I'm not a geek!" Sam says now, slightly annoyed as the laughter gets even louder and the people around them start to look at the group. Sam patiently waits for the laughter to die down before he clears his throat, turns to Santana and says, "Congrats on the baby, by the way."

Santana grins at him. "Thanks, Sam," she says to him. Then she smirks and says, "Two kids now, dude." She takes out two fingers and says, with a wider grin, "_Two_, dude. Still a bigger stud than you are, Sam. And I don't even have a dick."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Whatever, dude." He grabs his backpack, pulls out a white stuffed teddy and says, "For Rachel and Blue."

Santana smiles as she accepts the gift. "Thanks." Then she stops, and asks, earnestly, "Is it hypoallergenic? I think that's the first thing Rachel might want to know."

Quinn looks at Santana. "It's kind of weird how sometimes you kind of start sounding like Rachel, Santana."

Santana rolls her eyes. "If you haven't noticed, we _have_ been together eight years, Q."

"Yes, they're hypoallergenic. Don't think I don't know how Rachel will never get off my case if they're not hypoallergenic. I chose that instead of any kind of fabric, because I'm pretty there will be much discussion on thread counts when it comes to fabric in relation to Rachel. I wanted to skip that part. Still hilarious how whipped you are though, dude," Sam says now. When Santana only glares at him, Sam grins and says, putting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands, "So, Santana, I read that a baby typically uses about ten diapers a day."

Santana shrugs. "Yeah, so?"

Sam smiles patiently, before saying, "So, if a baby uses about ten diapers a day, multiplied by three hundred sixty five days multiplied by, say, three or four years, give or take although knowing Rachel, she'd probably make Blue start potty training by a year, but anyway, that's…" and here Sam pauses to do the math, before he says, "That's about fourteen thousand six hundred diapers. I did the calculations and I think you could totally save on money if you buy diapers in bulk."

Santana stares at Sam and says, "You want us to buy three or four years' worth of diapers?"

Sam shrugs. "Yeah, dude. Because that's what Costco is for."

Santana stares at him in disbelief, momentary speechless, before saying, "Is this like that one time you wanted Rachel and I to buy like thirty years' worth of tampons because you said we'd be able to save money in the long run?"

Quinn, Mike and Suzie all look at each other before they look at Sam and Sam says, defensively, "What? Given the rate of inflation and how fast the cost of basic commodities rises, you girls can totally save on money if you bought tampons in bulk! And besides, since you guys are older now, you'd only need to buy...at most…" and here Sam pauses to think about it, before he says, "Twenty or so years' worth of tampons…Ooh! Unless you have a heavy flow all the time?"

Quinn and Suzie groan as Suzie drops her fork and says, "_Gross_," as Mike, who is trying to sip his coffee almost spits it out. Everyone collectively says, "_Saaam_! Ugh!"

Sam stares at them, completely not realizing how inappropriate what he has just said is, as he says, "What? It's practical!"

Suzie makes a face, "Seriously don't need to know whether my moms have heavy flow or not, Uncle Sam. Next thing you know, you're going to start discussing wide-set vaginas or something…"

"Oh, you can bet he will," Mike says. "Because Sam has a wide-set vagina, too!"

Quinn and Santana both make a face and say, at the same time, "Gross."

"Remember that one time Sam wanted to start a band called _'Vajai'_?" Mike asks.

Suzie knits her eyebrows. "Hey! Dibs on that name! If _I _ever start a band, I'm totally calling it _'Vajai!'_ With an exclamation point! Because punctuation is awesome."

Santana makes a face. "Sam, you've made my daughter geekier than usual."

"Whatever dude," Sam says. "How's Rachel? Is she wrapped in a gossamer blanket of ecstasy now that she's a mother?"

"Gossamer blanket of what now?" Mike says. "I swear Sam sometimes I don't understand what you're saying."

Sam stares at Mike now and deadpans, "Ignoring you now," before he turns to Santana and the others and says, "So, I kind of made a diagram of Rachel's facial expressions and I must say…it's quite the entertaining piece of information…" and here he fishes out a piece of paper, with a graph and Rachel's different kinds of faces on it and starts pointing to each one. "I kind of never knew Rachel could make all these different faces - I call this her constipated face, this one her talk show face, this one her awards face, this one her…"

Mike doesn't let him continue as he hits Sam on the back of the head and Santana and Quinn just glare at him whilst Suzie just tries to hide her snickers behind her hand and Quinn gives Sam a lecture on what a bad friend he is for being too busy charting Rachel's facial expressions as well as recording everything on camera to actually help with anything else and be of actualuse. And so the morning goes, with Sam and Mike trying to out-trivia each other whilst in reality actually simultaneously just trying to out-bore the ladies, before the group decides Rachel has had sufficient rest and they all troop upstairs to Rachel's room.

* * *

Thanks to a lifelong regimen of simple exercises and a balanced diet born out of being vegan, then vegetarian with a little meat thrown in so she can meet the protein requirements needed for a healthy life, Rachel's body recovers from the pounding it took the day before and in a day or so, she is allowed to go back home, but without their daughter, as Dr. Patel still has to keep the baby under observation until he is really sure the baby is out-of-danger and healthy enough to go back home.

Rachel can now barely remember the events of the night she gave birth, everything is a blur, except for her baby had been born against all odds in a flurry of snow and flickering light and singing and sweat and blood and tears, and in the middle of it all, her friends and her daughter and Santana holding her and never letting her go until Blue had been born and both mother and daughter are safe and sound. She is glad that the baby is born safe and sound and the doctor has reassured her that though she was born a few weeks before her due date, all things point to their baby being very healthy and well.

The baby, for lack of a better word, is beautiful.

In fact, she is beyond beautiful.

She is indescribable.

She is perfect.

She is tiny, and admittedly wrinkly, but she has long, tiny, tiny fingers, and equally tiny toes, and she puts out her hands in fists and her toes curl and she yawns and she cries so softly and just from the fact that she has survived being born premature through snowstorm and power failures and her own mother's physiological limitations, tells Rachel that this one will grow into a feisty, tough one, the one that's truly a reflection of Rachel and Santana. And though she's so tiny and wrinkly, Rachel can see a bit of herself in the baby, and when the baby wails softly and curls her fists into tiny balls, she doesn't know why but the gesture so reminds her of Santana that there is this wave of love that surges through her, made stronger when she holds the baby or feeds the baby or even when she's just watching her sleeping. The first few days she aches to hold the baby, but there is a limited amount of time between mother and baby and when she is released from the hospital, it positively breaks her heart to be apart from the baby, and she has never known this kind of profound pain until she became a mother, but Dr. Patel assures her the baby wouldn't stay in intensive care that long, and she can always visit the baby for as long and as often she wants. Thus, Rachel spends most of her free time with the baby, even though most of it is done from behind glass.

But then, true to his word, Dr. Patel makes sure Blue spends only a few days at the hospital and since the test results indicate that she is fine and healthy, she is released, with Dr. Patel's blessings a day before Christmas eve.

Rachel and Santana bring the baby home, with much fanfare and excitement, the Lopezes and Berrys coming together at the Lopezes house with welcome banners, balloons, trumpets, bells and at Carlos' insistence, fireworks. So excited was Carlos at being an uncle again to a baby niece that he'd come home as soon as he could, giving his sister and Rachel both a bear hug before looking at the little baby Rachel holds in her arms and his face breaks into the tenderest expression Santana and Rachel have ever seen, and he says, voice cracking, "She's _beautiful_."

Then one by one, Hiram and Leroy, Dr. Lopez, Mrs. Lopez, Santana's Abuela, Tia Evita, Santana's cousin Max, home for the holidays, and Carlitos, all scramble to take a look at the new addition to Santana and Rachel's family, crowding around the baby and cooing and arguing about who the baby looks like the most. The Lopezes of course claim the baby looks a lot like one of the great, great grandmother or great, great aunt they had, whilst the Berrys claim she looks like some grandmother or aunt from either side of the family.

Santana and Suzie stand off to one side, watching all this unfold as Rachel sits on the couch, surrounded by their families and the two fold their arms in front of their chests, look at each other, shake their heads and roll their eyes, before Santana puts her left arm around her daughter, pulls her daughter near towards her, kisses her on the head and says, "_I_ think she actually looks a bit like you, Suzie."

Suzie chuckles as she lays her head on her mother's shoulder. "Never understood the need for people to figure out who the baby looks like anyway. Seems a bit narcissistic to me. But thanks, Mom. That's awesome. That means she'll probably hero-worship me until she hits puberty at least."

Santana laughs. "Okay."

That night, there is a big dinner at the Lopezes' house, with Mrs. Lopez preparing a meal with the help of Santana's Abuela and Tia Evita, with Carlitos, Suzie and Max catching up on their computer gaming, and the rest of the adults gathering around the living room chatting waiting for dinner to be served.

Just before dinner, a knock on the door reveals Sam, Mike, Quinn, Dave, Jeffrey and Aidan shivering in the cold, Ohio winter, with wine, roses, balloons, stuffed toys, the biggest grins on their faces and screaming, in delight, "Merry Christmas!"

Santana smiles, raises her eyebrows, throws up her hands, stands to one side, as each friend steps through the door, congratulates her and moves to the hallway and on to the living room. The last to enter is Quinn, who grins at her, raises her eyebrows and punches her lightly on the shoulder.

"Hey," Quinn says now.

"Hey," Santana says with a sigh, shutting the door to Quinn's laugh.

They both head to the living room where Sam, Mike and Carlos are currently at the stereo arguing over the playlist whilst the rest are just too busy chatting with each other. When Santana and Quinn enter though, Sam spots them and he shouts, "Santana! Hey! You're here! Awesome!" He then tries to get everyone's attention and announces, "So, hello, everyone! Hi! Merry Christmas!" Everyone greets him back. "So, we were kind of planning like a late baby shower for Rachel and Santana, except Blue kind of beat us to it, so now we're just going to have like a sort of welcome party for Blue slash Christmas party slash premmie party instead."

"Premmie party?" Suzie asks.

Everyone is silent for a while, before Mike reaches out and hits Sam on the head, and Sam says, "Ow!" and everyone starts to laugh and Sam hits Mike on the arm.

"Sorry," Sam says now, "So anyway, Rachel and Santana, congrats on the new baby, and Blue, welcome to the world." Everyone applauds his announcement before he adds, "Oh, oh, hold up, I've been dying to play this song for you!" and he hits the button on his iPod and the first strains of Elton John's"Circle of Life" plays.

There is a silence that settles in the living room as the unmistakable wail that marks the beginning of the song floods the room and Santana, Quinn, Suzie, Rachel, Dave and the Berrys all look at each other with puzzled expressions on their faces, and Sam indicates to Rachel that she should lift the baby up, a la Simba during the iconic scene in "The Lion King" whilst Carlos just throws up his head back and laughs.

"That is _awesome_, Sammy ol' boy!" Carlos says now between laughter, whilst Suzie leans over towards Santana and says, "Still can't believe you dated Uncle Sam."

Blue lets out a soft whimper that tells Rachel she probably needs to be fed and needs to sleep, so she excuses herself from the crowd to the people protesting to them leaving, but they reluctantly let Rachel and Blue go, and Rachel comes up to Santana, smiles at her and Santana smiles back.

"You okay baby? You want me to help?" Santana asks.

Rachel shakes her head. "It's okay. I'll come back."

Santana nods and leans over to kiss Rachel on the lips. Rachel smiles at her and heads to the door. Santana follows her with her eyes, before she decides to follow and out in the hallway, she rushes to call Rachel.

"Yeah?" Rachel asks.

"I just…" Santana starts to speak, but she finds herself at a loss for words. She wants to say so much, how happy she is, how relieved she is, how…content she is, like all she's ever asked for has been answered and she wants nothing more than to have all her days spent like this, with her wife and Suzie and Blue and their families and friends, but she doesn't know how to say it, without flushing or feeling embarrassed or feeling like whatever she will say is not enough, and Rachel looks at her, waiting for her to say something, but when Santana only stands there, unable to say anything, Rachel only smiles, steps forward, so that she is standing close to Santana and says, softly, "I know, honey, I know."

Santana smiles in relief as Rachel leans up to kiss Santana and Santana leans down and kisses her gently, reverently, before she looks down at Blue and plants a soft kiss on the baby's forehead.

"I love you," Santana whispers to the baby, before she looks at Rachel and whispers, "And I love _you_."

Rachel chuckles. "I know, honey. I know. I love you, too."

As Santana's gaze follows her wife and daughter up the stairs and into their bedroom, where a crib has been set up near their bed so the couple can watch over their child, Santana thinks life is perfect. Santana thinks everything is perfect. And that she cannot ask for more.

But then, on Christmas eve, Blue suddenly falls sick.

* * *

Rachel of course notices it first, how Blue, who is normally active and energetic, well, active and energetic as any premmie newborn could be, Rachel guesses, but on the day of Christmas eve, Rachel wakes up to the baby listless and quiet and only halfheartedly feeding from her and Rachel's maternal instincts kick into overdrive. A million and one thoughts go through her mind, and the fact that Blue was born prematurely also means that the baby will probably go through twice as much hardship as the other kids would have, so Rachel would develop a lifelong overprotectiveness for Blue that never actually goes away long after Blue has grown into a woman and living away from home. But for now, Rachel is worried sick and is wringing her arms and pacing back and forth in front of the crib, debating the wisdom of waking up her wife, who probably had just fallen asleep after being woken up at intermittent times in the night when Rachel would get up to feed the baby, or change her diaper or she would hear the baby's whimper. Rachel decides against waking Santana up, and instead talks to Dr. Lopez - who is probably more qualified for the job anyway. Dr. Lopez takes one look at the baby and declares that she should be taken to the hospital right away.

And so that is where Rachel and Santana find themselves on Christmas Eve, in the hospital, refusing to leave their child, and the nurses and the doctor at the pediatric unit take pity on them, and allow them to stay, at least for the night, since it is Christmas Eve, because, as Rachel had insisted, no one should be alone on Christmas Eve. Rachel is Jewish of course, but she'd lived with Santana long enough to come to appreciate Christmas not for its religious meaning, but for what it means, for what it has come to symbolize for Rachel and Santana and their family: tradition, family, a celebration of _life_ itself.

Rachel and Santana sit by the visitor's lounge, keeping vigil, checking up on their daughter at the pediatric unit at regular intervals, all through the night, getting each other brewed coffee from the vending machine and just sitting beside each other, talking or just trying to nap. Santana doesn't really have to say anything, but Rachel already knows, just from the look on her face, that she is as worried as Rachel is, but Rachel doesn't want to add to Santana's anxieties any more than is necessary, and so she just holds Santana's hand, doesn't say anything, but prays, and hopes, that everything is going to be alright. And Santana, well, she finds herself praying silently for Blue's recovery, praying fervently and continuously and anxiously, because Blue just arrived and she can't be taken away so quickly because that's just not fair, she thinks, it's not fair, and Blue is just a baby and she wants to see Blue grow and she wants to see who Blue will end up looking most like and she wants to know what Blue will be like, what her fears and hopes and dreams are and what her life will be like, because Blue deserves all this, deserves life, deserves this family and Santana wouldn't be able to live with herself if this one small bundle of joy would be taken away from her and Rachel, because this little baby is hers, hers and Rachel's, a part of her, a part of Rachel, their love personified, their love _solidified_. And Santana, Santana is never more sure than at that moment, when Blue falls sick just a few days after being born, that she wants this baby, she wants to be this baby's mother, she wants to see this baby grow, she wants to raise this baby with her wife and whatever fears and doubts and ambiguity and even hesitation she may have had about being a mother again for the second time, is wiped away when she sees the baby in that glass case softly crying, weak and listless, helpless and alone and all tiny and sad without her mothers by her side.

It is at the visitor's lounge that Suzie, Sam, Mike, Dave, Jeffrey and Quinn come, just before midnight of Christmas eve, all somber and quiet, gathering around the couple, all awkward and uncomfortable, concerned and worried, for Rachel and Santana and Blue. It surprises Rachel and Santana at first, but then Santana realizes she'd actually mentioned this to Quinn and Quinn must've told the others. Rachel seems to realize this at about the same time, because while she doesn't think it necessary for their daughter and their friends to be here, she _does_ appreciate it. Santana had called Quinn and in not so many words, with much panic and anxiety and fear in her voice, had told her Blue is sick and what is she going to do and she is worried sick and Quinn had calmed her down and told her to hope for the best. It wasn't the most comforting of words, but it _was_ the most succinct. Santana already knows it wouldn't be the first time Blue will get sick (after all, Suzie had gone through her own share of illnesses as well, although Suzie was a fairly healthy child) and it certainly wouldn't be the last, and as Quinn had so aptly put it, she would just have to get over it and be strong and be there for Rachel and Blue. Her therapist, Dr. Spacey, had said as much, only nicer. She couldn't help but feel worried though and seeing their friends here now, just made things a bit better.

"Brought you some food," Sam offers now, handing the food to Santana, breaking the silence as he does so.

Santana and Rachel nod as their friends take seats around them or stand around, and Suzie takes a seat beside Rachel and puts her arm around her mother. Finally, Sam softly asks how the baby is and if they can see her. Santana looks up, almost chokes on her words, says Blue is fine, but that she's at the pediatric unit, in one of those glass units to protect, but that yes, they can see her, but only from outside the room, where the large glass window is. They all troop to just outside the pediatric unit and they see the baby there, in the room, inside her incubation unit, with tubes stuck to her tiny body, her arms and feet and Santana, seeing their baby like this, feels her heart seize, feels like her breath is knocked out of her and she feels Rachel reach for her hand and she looks and Rachel looks like she is about to cry and Santana removes her hand and puts her arm around Rachel instead.

No one speaks as they all stand around, in front of the glass, looking at the baby, not knowing what to say, but then Sam starts to sing, slowly and low and soft first,

"_When I look into your eyes_

_It's like watching the night sky_

_Or a beautiful sunrise_

_Well, there's so much they hold_

_And just like them old stars_

_I see that you've come so far_

_To be right where you are_

_How old is your soul?..."_

His voice surprises everyone, shatters the silence and everyone looks at him, not knowing what to say. Everyone seems to recognize the song. It is Jason Mraz's "I Won't Give Up On Us." As he starts to sing the chorus, Rachel, Santana and their friends just listen quietly or stare off into the distance.

"_Well, I won't give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I'm giving you all my love_

_I'm still looking up…"_

He falls silent, not saying anything. The rest do not say anything as well. But then Mike continues the next stanza, his voice cracked and out-of-tune and off-pitch, but he sings the stanza with such passion and conviction everyone forgets that he'd always been one of the least talented singers of the club,

"_And when you're needing your space_

_To do some navigating_

_I'll be here patiently waiting_

_To see what you find…"_

Mike stops, looks down on the floor, looking now as worried and anxious as the others. Music - music had been one of the things that all of them had used to cope with what life had to offer them throughout their young lives, and from the look on their faces, they know it is not enough, but they hope this might at least get them through this now. But then, Santana surprises everyone when she leans over the class, puts a hand on the glass and continues where Mike has left off, not looking at anyone, just looking at Blue behind the glass,

"_'Cause even the stars they burn_

_Some even fall to the earth_

_We've got a lot to learn_

_God knows we're worth it_

_No, I won't give up…."_

And one by one, Santana is joined by Sam, and Mike, and Quinn and finally Dave, as Suzie and Jeffrey listen. Jeffrey has never been privy to these impromptu singing songs the group is prone to singing when they all get together, although he seems endlessly fascinated by how powerfully binding music seems to be for this group. Santana's voice rises from the rest, the next stanza meaning more to her, as she looks at Rachel now and sings it to her, offering comfort in the words of the song,

"_I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily_

_I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make_

_Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use_

_The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake…"_

And here, in the next part of the song, Sam looks at Santana and smiles and Quinn looks at Sam then Santana as all three sing the stanza to each other, the friendship and love all of them have for each other shining through,

"_And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend_

_For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn_

_We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in_

_I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not, and who I am…"_

And then the group turns to the chorus again, everyone instinctively knowing their parts, voices blending. Most of them are all out of practice, except for Rachel, who looks at all of them, tears welling up in her eyes, a lump forming in her throat, as she listens to them, but their voices still carry the song as powerfully, their voices soaring above the melody to offer a measure of comfort to the couple. And as they reach the end of the song, Santana sings the main parts as everyone else serves as backing vocals and Rachel looks like she is about to cry as she leans towards Santana and Santana puts her arm around her and kisses her on the forehead.

"_Well, I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up)_

_God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)_

_We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved)_

_God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)…"_

That last part of the song, whispered to Rachel by Santana as both a hope and a prayer and a promise and an assurance and Rachel feels strengthened by this, Santana holding her now and telling her everything's going to be alright, and their friends surrounding them right now, telling them in not so many ways, that they're here for them and Rachel doesn't know why but it's what pulls her, them through.

They all stay with Rachel and Santana that whole night, keeping vigil by the visitor's lounge, Sam and Mike having charmed the nurses with cakes and a few charming words, and they do not leave their side until Christmas morning.

Blue, tough little bird that she is, pulls through, so determined is she to live despite the odds being against her. As it turns out, it is a not-so simple cold, weak lungs still adjusting to the harsh Ohio winter, according to Dr. Patel. A couple of days after, Blue is back home with her parents, sister and the rest of the Lopezes and Berrys, ready to celebrate a late _Noche Buena _and New Year's Eve with the family.

And as Santana and Rachel watch everyone admire and coo and adore Blue, they think Blue coming out of intensive care and coming home safe and sound from her first cold, is the best Christmas gift ever.

* * *

**End of Part 1**

* * *

_**Author's end notes:**_

_**That's it for this chapter! Thanks for your patience and hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading, reviews are welcome as always and will be much appreciated.**_

_**At this point, I'd like to apologize for the delay, as well. Work has been stressful and I was kind of getting burned out by Pezberry (plus this season isn't helping as well, so!), so I had to take a mini-break. I'll probably be busy in the coming weeks, but worry not, I will still update as regularly and as quickly as I can. :-) I want to take my time writing this story because I am big on quality control and it does take time to write and edit each chapter (so many thanks to the beta, DragonsWillFly for your help as always). Your reviews, favs and PMs go a long way though in helping me keep the story going (the story's done in my head, it's the writing down that's hard) all the way to the end.**_

_**This story will be divided into three parts, like a three-act play, the first part, this part, is done, and the next part will be part 2. This story, as I mentioned, is a bit different from "The Learning Curve" and the others, and as always, I hope you trust me enough to take you on this journey. ;)**_

_**Now on to your comments:**_

_**To kickangel - Hey. :) Thanks for reading and reviewing chapter 5. It is much appreciated. I hope this wasn't as long a wait as you may have expected. Thanks for the many kind words you wrote and I'm glad the chaps never disappoint. Re: Rachel and the pregnancy - hope this chapter answers that. :) As for Mike and Tina - yes, wanted to shake things up a bit. As for Harry and Jenna's background - it is actually much more interesting than what has been shown on the show and I wanted to expand on that because my beta had wanted me to expand on other characters. :) As for Suzie walking in on the moms, yes, the poetic justice was what I was going for. As for Sam being gay - hmmm, I hadn't thought that far yet, hahaha! I really just love writing Sam, because of the geeky inappropriateness! As for Wolfram and Hart - yes, all I ever really needed to know about law and demons I learned from "Angel" (and "Buffy"). Hahaha! :) But yes, Santana's law firm is a bit different.**_

_**As for the Beca/Chloe fics - funny you mentioned that, I started reading them, too, and that's how I ended up writing one as well, because I love "Pitch Perfect" and everything about it. And also, thanks so much for reading "Remembrance of Songs Past" by the way. Your reviews always make my day. :)**_

_**As for Chloe singing "Just the Way You Are" to Beca and the Bellas - that cover just turned that song around! I could never listen to that song the same way again. :) Plus I absolutely adore Brittany Snow, Anna Kendrick and Anna Camp. Also, "Pitch Perfect" did in less than 2 hours what Glee has been trying (and sometimes failing) to do in 4 seasons. I agree with you, Glee's just so bad these days (the story, music and dancing's been subpar). Again thank you for your patience and hope you like this chapter too.**_

_**To blushyskittle3321, kamooi and sammywammy1120 - Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing. To kamooi - glad you love the nerdy facts. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, too!**_

_**To pictureofsuccess - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Apologies for taking so long with this chap, glad you liked chapter 5 though. Re: Finn's creepy future - yes, it's sad, isn't it? He used to be only the jock/bully of season 1 who meant well and tried to do right by both Quinn and Rachel but now he's just a total creep. As for JBI - yes, I don't know, I just think he's kind of weird, slightly pervy, but overall probably more driven than most of the kids of McKinley. :) As for Mike and Sam - hahaha! They're kind of fun to write because they're both geeky and stuff, but I think they're just friends, though. As for Santana coming clean to Rachel and your apprehensions about something devastating happening - hope this chapter answers that. :)**_

_**To baxterj - Hey. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Glad you liked chapter 5 and glad Suzie still makes you laugh. As for Santana and Rachel's mannerisms - it was inevitable, they have been together a while. :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too!**_

_**To parker88 - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing the last chapter, glad you enjoyed it. Hope this chapter answers your queries about the baby. Hope you enjoy this chapter, too!**_

_**Songs featured in this chapter**_

_**"Hold On" by Tom Waits**_

_**"Hold On" by Wilson Philipps**_

_**"Hold On" by John Lennon**_

_**"Hold On" by Alabama Shakes**_

_**"Keep Holding On" by Avril Lavigne (as sung by Boyce Avenue)**_

_**"I Won't Give Up" by Jason Mraz (because I've been dying to include this song in this chapter since 'True Delights')**_


	7. Part 2: From Rachel's Diary

**Part 2**

* * *

_From Rachel's diary_

Dear _ ,

Blue is four months today.

I just realized this today after I'd bathed her and changed her diaper and fed her and put her to sleep.

Save for the occasional sound of cars or people shouting down the street, everything is quiet, and since I have nothing else to do now, I've just decided to write here. It's spring and it's been exactly a year since I found out I was pregnant, and four months since I gave birth, and years since I thought I couldn't get pregnant. I haven't really written in a diary since high school (I've stopped writing in a diary since… Finn really, right after graduation) and I've kind of associated diary writing with something infantile and puerile, but as Santana is either in the office working, or at home working, and Suzie is always busy with work or getting into trouble, I'm mostly kind of alone so I thought maybe I should just write in my journal. And last time I visited Dr. Westheimer, who spent a few minutes lecturing me on the risks I took when I insisted on going home a few weeks before my due date (she'd surmised that the reason I went into premature labor was all the stress and pressure in my personal and professional life - which I guess might have been true) but she had smiled and said she was glad and relieved I was okay and I have to come in later for a pap smear (I hate pap smears! But I apparently need one of those, so), she told me to keep writing in my journal. Among other things, she advised me also to always remember to have some time for myself or take some time to hang out with other parents or adults in general. I can see now that she has a point - I hadn't noticed it until one time I was talking to Suzie and she had joked, with a smile on her face, "Mom, I'm not Blue, please don't use baby talk on me". Anyway, of course Dr. Westheimer doesn't forget to remind me that I shouldn't forget my relationship with my partner. She says, "I know _zees eez_ a very crucial stage in _zee_ child's development, she needs a lot more care and attention, especially since she was born prematurely, but don't forget _zee_ needs of _zee_ partner as well. Sometimes _zees_ can make or break _zee_ relationship as well. Don't forget to go out on _zee_ dates and of course, don't forget _zee_ sex life as well," and she kind of proceeds to talk about the many creative ways to keep the sex life interesting and it kind of just makes me blush so furiously I'm just very glad San is not there to lean back, smirk and nod in wholehearted approval at whatever Dr. Westheimer is saying. Once I kind of came across Gloria on line as well, and she said the same thing, telling me, "You know it's going to be hard, with the baby and everything but you need to be resourceful. I remember my husband and I would have quickies during those times when our twins took their naps, or you know whenever we have free time…" which kind of just grossed me out a bit.

Anyway, Kurt's been busy these days, so we can't really hang out. Kurt's fashion designs have been really taking off, apparently there's a market for plus-sized clothes and maternity wear and geeky, dorky designs. He'd actually put up a website with Sam's help and people are actually ordering clothes from him. He'd come for a visit once and though he's a bit upset he missed me giving birth (Sam of course tells him he can always watch that distressing video Sam made of me in labor during a snowstorm) and even a bit more upset that he missed the christening (which, of course, Sam says he has a video of, too) but he does try to come for a visit whenever he can. His designs though are generating buzz, among sci-fi aficionados and fashion critics looking for something more edgy and entertaining and since Kurt seems to have found a niche market, he seems busier than usual. I keep in touch with Zee and Dave about Music is Life, and they're keeping a valiant effort to help me keep it alive, but it feels like an uphill battle, this one. I sometimes get the itch to go back to work, and I know Macpherson would be more than happy to help me but I also can't leave my baby just like that. San and I had actually talked about it, but I think it's crucial and critical to the baby's development that I be there during the baby's first few months of her life.

Anyway, once the rest of the housework's done, the dishes, the cleaning up and tidying up and vacuuming, and the laundry, there really isn't anything else to do, except maybe catch up on some mindless daytime soap I'm ashamed to admit I like and that I'm even more ashamed to admit that Sam introduced me to. Sometimes I go online, well, most times really, and I end up chatting with Sam, who's either in Cali or NY but almost always online - which I guess is kind of good because there's at least one person who's keeping me company when I'm all alone in the house. He's been giving me useful articles like the five kinds of food that can give me better skin (pears, cabbage, turmeric, lemons and watercress, apparently, most of them have vitamins C, A and E, which are all good for the skin), the health benefits of chocolate ("Endorphins, dude! Endorphins!" he tells me on Skype, among other things. Apparently chocolate makes you slim, smarter, prevents wrinkles, slows down muscle ageing, gives you energy, makes you happier), list of films that look shiny but are braindead, gay subtext in "Lord of the Rings" and "Star Trek" (if I listen to another discussion about Frodo and Samwise, I will scream! Honestly!), and which song in the new Justin Timberlake album is the most repetitive (he even showed me the pie charts and graphs he made, indicating which word is repeated the most. "Baby" for the win! Although according to Sam, Justin _Bieber_ actually said "Baby" fifty eight times on his song "Baby". I forget sometimes how much of a big Bieber fan Sam used to be. I'd argue that most modern pop music is repetitive but I'm afraid about how _that_ particular conversation will go.) or how six years old is the best time to teach kids music and ten is the best time to teach them different kinds of languages and how babies can sense if parents are arguing and so on…

Ugh. Sometimes he just won't shut up. But he seems as fascinated with Blue as everyone else is, so. And he keeps me company, albeit in an online capacity so that's good, I guess. And he keeps me up-to-date with the latest news from the friends' front. Mike and Tina seem to be working their problems out, apparently they're seeing some kind of marriage counselor or something. Mercedes is still as busy as anything, and Quinn and Jeffrey still have their hands full, but Sam, well, Sam, despite the fact that he seems like he's working all the time, seems to have all the time in the world for updates and keeping in touch and trivia spouting and stuff like that.

But Blue though.

Blue is amazing.

Blue is amazing and wonderful and breathtaking and just… _beautiful_.

And she's beautiful because she's mine and she's Santana's, and she's ours and whenever I see her I see a part of me and a part of Santana's, in the way she moves and cries and looks at me, at us.

Every day I wake up looking forward to a new day that I can spend with her.

Most times these days Blue and I spend hours just playing together, or Blue spends hours just playing by herself. I've become pretty adept at babyspeak, and can pretty much kind of figure out what sounds mean she's hungry or sleepy or she needs her diaper changed. I love how Blue's dark eyes light up and how her whole body perks up when she sees me, or San and Suzie and she smiles this perfect smile. She can laugh now, when I make faces (I can keep her entertained with "peak-a-boo") and this is one of those times, San jokes, when my ability to make those weird, funny faces comes in handy for more than just Broadway or Hollywood roles.

I'm endlessly fascinated with Blue, the way she yawns, the way she smiles, the way she cries that tiny cry she does when she's hungry, or upset, or just gassy, or sleepy or needs her diaper changed, the way she sucks her thumb when she is trying to sleep, the way she curls her fingers into tiny fists, the way she looks up at me with perfect trust, the way her eyes just take in everything with such wonder and curiosity in her eyes. It just takes my breath away.

So, yes, being a mother is all it's cracked up to be and more. Quinn says it's not, but that's just Quinn being Quinn and it's different for Santana. But yes, I have to say, being a mother is everything everyone has said it was going to be. And more.

It's ridiculous now how nervous I'd felt then as my due date approached. I hadn't been sure if I was ever going to be a good mother - even though San has wisely pointed out that I'd been such a good mother to Suzie, it's different with Suzie. When San and I got together, Suzie was already seven years old and well past the breast-feeding, diaper-changing, I'm-afraid-I'll-drop-her years. I mean, I still don't think I'm the best of mothers, and I constantly wake up checking if the Blue's still breathing, and I'm always checking her bodily fluids to San's consternation and sometimes, disgust, but you hear a lot of things - like crib death and all that, and I probably will only get this one chance to be a mother again, so I don't really want to screw it up.

To say that Blue's turned our lives upside down is an understatement. She's asleep during the day, she's awake at nights, so I'm asleep during the day and I'm awake nights. San's been wonderful, helping with the diaper changing and feeding at night when she can, but she's kind of too tired half of the time, but I once caught San sleeping on the couch, the baby on top of her, San holding her gently, the television turned on to some random news channel, a legal brief covering both of them as they both slept, the baby rising and falling on her chest (for some strange reason, San likes to read legal documents to our child, in the hopes that, I don't know, the baby will take after her or something. I don't know about that, but the reading of those long, boring documents _does_ put the baby to sleep, I'll give her that). And looking at them both, San and Blue together, I can't help but think how beautiful they are, San and Blue, together, on that couch, and I just…there's this indescribable feeling at the pit of my stomach, something warm and fuzzy and happy rising up, inside me and I find myself smiling, just looking at them and I think to myself how much I love San (Kurt and Quinn will probably roll their eyes now if they ever read this) and how much I love Blue.

Anyway, I'd gently lifted the baby off of her which woke her up and she was about to freak out until she realized I was holding the baby and she had this sheepish look on her face, exactly the kind of face Suzie used to have when I catch her trying to get some cookies past bed time. San had looked so adorable looking so guilty and apologetic I couldn't really get mad at her.

She's been through enough anyway, that I can't really put too much pressure on her. I don't think I'll ever forget that time I went into labor. San had looked, for lack of a better word, _terrified_. I'd never seen her that petrified until I went into labor. She looked pale and worried and anxious and nervous, more than I actually did. I think after Blue was born, I was just glad it was all over.

San adores Blue though - and no matter how tired or busy she is, she _does_ try to spend as much time as she can with Blue, even though she's swamped with work these days, and she has to bring some of the work home (thankfully, tax season isn't as stressful now as it used to be, ever since we worked out a system and added an accountant and auditor to go over our finances as well early on in our relationship). Anyway, one time, in the middle of the night, when it was her turn to feed Blue, she had tried to warm some milk and had put in the coffee as well so she wouldn't fall asleep - she had to put an all-nighter for a case anyway, and I'd gone down to check on San, and she hadn't realized she'd poured the milk in her mug and the brewed coffee in the baby bottle until I pointed it out to her and she had rolled her eyes and muttered, "_Shit_, what is wrong with me?" And I had laughed and told her, "Go to sleep, you workaholic!" She had tried to protest but I'd already pushed her out of the kitchen and by the time I'd fed and changed Blue, and checked up on San, she had already crashed on our bed, passed out from exhaustion.

Another time I catch San singing songs to Blue when it's her turn to put Blue to sleep and they look so adorable together, and I know for some strange reason San hates Stevie Wonder songs, but I hear her singing, "Isn't She Lovely" to Blue, some Adele songs ( "Rumor Has It" and "Someone Like You"), or some Pretenders or Fleetwood Mac ("Songbird" seems a favorite, and she likes to sing _"And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before"_ to Blue and Blue only smiles and giggles at her), some Duffy ("Warwick Avenue" and "Mercy" seem to get a delighted reaction from Blue) and of course, some Amy Winehouse - although I've commented to San the appropriateness of singing "Rehab" and "Valerie" to Blue to which San only shrugs and says, "What? I don't think she understands that."

San may not sing as often as she used to, but she can still belt all these songs like nobody's business and I've always thought she's always had a lovely voice and I wonder if she ever regrets not going to New York and following her own dreams like she'd originally planned. She'd actually once told me, a few years ago, that one time she visited me when I was a freshman in NYADA and she was doing pre-law in Kentucky, and we'd gotten so drunk we ended up in our room and…one thing led to another and…she kind of drunkenly confessed to having the urge to drop out and come to New York and be a singer or something, like that girl from "Coyote Ugly", and I'd kind of told her if she ever needed a place to stay she could always crash with me and she'd just kind of pulled me towards herself, and held me so tightly and kissed me and she smelled of alcohol and perfume and promptly dropped off to sleep. I don't know why but it took me a while to sleep with her holding me so tight like that. I don't think she remembered all of that the day after. Anyway, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if she _did_ drop out and come out to New York and stay with me. I wondered what would have happened. Sometimes, when I think about all that time lost…

Sometimes, when it's the middle of the night and Blue refuses sleep, San would bring Blue down to the living room and San would turn on the stereo and she'd play Bob Marley, Jason Mraz, Jack Johnson, Alex Lloyd, Collective Soul, Gin Blossoms, Better than Ezra, Toad the Wet Sprocket, U2, some Sting, Eric Clapton and B.B. King songs, and Blue would giggle and play with San's hair or face and in a few minutes she'd be asleep on San's shoulder or arms and that's how I see both of them, Blue in San's arms, by the light of the waning midnight moon shining by the window, as San rocks Blue to sleep in her arms. And I wonder why when I play Broadway showtunes to Blue she kind of doesn't respond as happily as she does to rock or reggae or blues and San jokes it's because Blue has taste and then San laughs and winks at me. I just roll my eyes. I guess also because maybe babies like a lot of loud noises, that's why.

I hear someone crying. I guess Blue's up now.

More later.

* * *

Dear _,

Blue's busy playing in her play pen in the living room so I'm just kind of taking some time to write here before she starts to cry and stuff.

So, I've originally planned to go back to work as soon as I can, like at least a month or two months after Blue was born but that was before she'd been born a month ahead of schedule and had spent a few days in intensive care and a few more days after when she got her first cold. I couldn't just leave her after all that. Macpherson's a bit disappointed about that, but says he can work around that. If I go back to work too soon, I think I'll miss Blue too much anyway. I don't think I can bear being away from her even for a few minutes. Anyway, Blue's looking better now, healthier, and not so tiny. Blue had been so tiny when she was born, only about five pounds or something, but she's catching up now, she's about eight or nine pounds now.

San and I had talked about day care facilities and all that, and I did try it once, when I had gone to work, leaving Blue with this day care facility with this no nonsense director that reminded me a bit of Mrs. Sheridan only if she promised to give me pictures of Blue on my phone every hour on the hour (which she did, albeit grudgingly) but then right in the middle of shooting a scene, I'd heard on the news of a shooting at a day care facility in Quebec and that reminded me of Columbine and Virginia Tech and Sandy Hook and all this other shootings in all those other places and it just freaked me out and and all I can think of is that six year old little boy who was shot eleven times and it had me calling the day care center every second and rushing out of the shoot after it was done and picking Blue up straight away and calling San and I hadn't even realized I'd interrupted her in the middle of a meeting until I recognized the voice of her secretary and San had kind of patiently listened to me and calmed me down and offered to come home early but I'd refused and kind of just stayed at home, holding Blue.

For lack of something better to do, I had sat on the couch with Blue in my arms and I'd turned on the television and saw a re-run of a high school television show where there's an actual school shooting that happens but it turns out there was really no shooting (one of the teenaged girls, the one with Asperger's syndrome or something turned out to be the culprit, but aren't school shooters always angry, white, disturbed young, straight males?) and people actually sing John Mayer? And Elton John? To each other, and to the cat? And it freaked me out some more (I mean why would anyone do an episode of a school shooting on network TV in the first place _ever_? And have them sing John Mayer and Elton John? Who _does_ that? What is the point of dramatizing a school shooting when we've already seen all that on the six o'clock news? Why would creators even capitalize on a real tragedy? It's sick and exploitative and manipulative and crass and offensive and disrespectful and _cheap_, and really in bad taste, is what it is!).

But then, the front door opens and closes and I think it's Suzie come home from school, and I yell out that I am in the living room, but as I turn around I see San, in her business suit, and her laptop bag and her suitcase, and she stands there, looking at me, and a smile spreads on her face as she says, "Hey, honey. I'm home. You okay?" And it is one of those moments when I think I can never love her more than at that moment and she comes and sits beside me and puts her arm around me and kisses me on the forehead and gets Blue from me and listens to me as I ramble on and on about the school shooting on the news and that high school shooting episode I just saw and she just sits there listening as I ramble on and on and she nods, and asks questions but doesn't say anything else, only listens. _Listens_. One of the things I love about San - she listens to me, and my crazy ideas and all my drama - she may disagree or something, but she always _listens_.

And she sits there, holding Blue, before she says, softly, "Breathe, baby, _breathe_." And that's when I stop and realize I'm hyperventilating and there's a paperbag that materializes out of nowhere, being offered to me by San, and I start breathing into it and San rubs my back gently with one hand as she holds Blue with the other and she whispers some more words to me before I actually calm down and both she and Blue look at me and Blue gurgles and giggles and San glances at the television and says, "What on earth are you doing watching that show?" before she reaches for the remote and flips the channel to the Disney Channel as I say, "Sorry, there was nothing on."

San only rolls her eyes and says, "You know you shouldn't be watching that. Between the post-partum depression and Blue and school shootings, I think we should put a moratorium on stressful stuff that freak you out. You know how you get when that happens. Plus that's a shi-_crap_ show to begin with." Here she stops, looks at Blue and says, "Sorry, Blue. Anyway, that's the same show that thought it was cool to out a teen gay and sing songs about domestic violence, so a school shooting episode would be really bad."

Then San says, casually, "'One Tree Hill' did a good school shooting episode. And 'Degrassi'. And Buffy. Obviously". She says it so casually, so matter-of-factly I kind of stop and look at her, and she has this look of concern on her face mixed in with an earnestness that I have come to really, really adore and really love her for (how had I missed this in high school?) and I don't know but I start smiling and then laughing and I know it's strange but there's something to be said about your wife trying to make you feel better by rattling off good school shooting episodes from shows. When I start laughing, she looks at me, all confused, and says, "What? Britt loved 'One Tree Hill' and 'Degrassi'. We hated Peyton, but I loved Sophia Bush, but yeah. Brittany made me watch those. Sam and I loved 'Buffy' - we used to do marathons all the time…" Of course if there is one thing I know about Brittany it's her devotion to 'One Tree Hill' and 'Degrassi'. I don't know, but I just looked at San then and she seemed a bit embarrassed probably by what she has said, and she says, defensively, "What? Buffy is awesome. And lesbian Willow is the best kind of Willow…Although Sam and I are probably singlehandedly responsible for Suzie's inexplicable fear of bunnies. But then again, have you seen bunnies? They're creepy. I still don't understand why bunnies eat so many carrots. What do they need such good eyesight for?" I stare at her again and she does this thing where she kind of looks down shyly, and she looks so beautiful and geeky and adorable all at the same time and I suddenly just feel so glad that San is there for me and I don't know, I end up hugging her and kissing her as Blue squirms between us and I laugh in relief and I murmur "Thank you" and "You are such a geek!"

"I am not," she says indignantly, after I kiss her, pulling away from me and pouting and rolling her eyes at me before pausing and saying, "Well, _not_ as much of a geek as Sam anyway. I mean, has he waxed poetic already about the massive continuity fails in all the James Bond movies? The worst space opera movies ever? The best reboots of movies ever? The best recast roles of television and movies? Or, you know, the latest movie about a pseudo dystopian future where people obsessed with celebrities pay to get infected with celebrity viruses?"

I kind of stare at her then and raise my eyebrows in amusement and she looks at me, realization on her face, and she says, "Oh my god, you're right, I _am_ a geek."

Blue looks up at San then and gurgles and I laugh and say, "See, even Blue agrees."

San leans away and grins at Blue and coos, "Aaww, sweetie, do you think Mom is a geek like Mommy insists she is?"

Blue only gurgles in response and giggles and San smiles and kisses her and hugs her, running her hand on Blue's back before she looks at me.

"At least he hasn't shown you those disturbing Victorian era post-mortem photos," San says.

I make a face. "Is that the one where the family takes a photo of the family with the dead family members?"

San grimaces. "Oh, god, Sam's a jerk."

I only smile at her then as she smiles at Blue and makes faces at the baby and the baby giggles before San looks at me and says, "So, what's for dinner?"

Blue only looks at San with a curious look on her face and San says, "I know what _you're_ going to have for dinner, sweetie. But Mom can't have breastmilk from Mommy, too. Well, I _can_ actually, I mean she produces enough milk for the whole family but…" she stops when I look at her and she grins back at me and says, "Just kidding, babe." As I get up to go to the kitchen and San follows me with Blue in her arms, she tells me, "Although I wholeheartedly agree with doctors - breastmilk is still best for babies. And adults. Especially lesbians." When I look at her and roll my eyes, she says, "Breastmilk on my cereal, breastmilk on my coffee. Sounds good to me! Got milk?"

"Oh, my god, San, stop it," I whine, as San starts to laugh. "And isn't that from an old Coffeemate commercial or something? And also, you are _so_ gay."

"You know it!" San says, trailing after me as we head to the kitchen.

"Salad, okay?" I ask her as I open the refrigerator and peer into it. "I could heat up some leftover lasagna or something."

San only smiles. "Anything's good. I'd rather have you for dinner but…"

I look at San and San has this smirk, this _look_ on her face, this unmistakable look she has that she only ever has for me and I don't know, my face starts to heat up, because she knows as well as I do that it's been a while since the last time we've been…intimate. And it's not for lack of trying or anything, it's just, all these things happening all at the same time. When Blue was born and she got sick that first time, all that time had been spent on Blue and we were busy with the impromptu christening, and then January came and went and since Blue had been born premature, it just seemed like she needed more special care so for a while she slept in the bedroom with us and of course, we couldn't really get intimate with each other with Blue in the room. Blue had actually just moved to her own room but there's still the regular feeding and diaper changing and between that and work and Suzie, we haven't actually even gotten past, well, as the kids say, first base. We'd planned to go out on dates and you know, make more of an attempt on our physical relationship, and Suzie has offered to babysit Blue, but something would always come up - mostly something in San's work, or we'd just be too tired or something, so. And sometimes, when the time _is_ right, it's the timing from both of us that's off. Like we'd be listening to music in our bedroom, just before we go to sleep, and she'd holding me and kissing me and her arm travels up my top but it's one of those nights when I'm just not in the mood, or it would be the other way around, where I'd be in the mood, but she wouldn't be, she'd be tired, or irritable or moody or it would be that time of the month or something, or we'd be right in the middle of it and it would be all hot and erotic and exciting and just…_amazing_…but then the baby monitor announces that Blue is crying, and either needs to be fed or changed or _both_ or something else comes up and we'd have to stop whatever we're doing. And here we are. All this really gives a whole new meaning to the words, "_Coitus interruptus_", with emphasis on "_interruptus"_. We kind of do sneak in a shower together, so there's that. Wish we could do more of those, though.

Anyway, San laughs now, waving her arm as if to dismiss the idea before she says, "Just kidding, baby. I'm starving. We could just order Thai or Korean or Chinese. Or maybe pizza, it's fine. I can order, if you want."

I smile in relief and San hands me the phone and I say, "Pizza?" and she nods and I start to dial it, and as I wait for the person on the other line to answer, I ask San, "How was your day?"

And San starts to rant and rave about one of her bosses, Wolfram, who, she says, is "this pedantic, pontificating, belligerent old _fart_, this worthless steaming pile of cowdung, this…" - and I interrupt, indicating the child and she looks at Blue, who is looking so earnestly at her, so San says, "Figuratively speaking, anyway. Sorry, kiddo."

"Ah, still have the touch, I see," I joke, referring to San's inexhaustible depository of insults for other people.

The pizza place answers and I start to give them our orders - vegetarian for me, and San and Suzie's favorite one - the one with every topping on it plus olives and pineapples and everything else and when I put the phone down, San starts to talk about her day as I start to prepare the salad and Suzie comes home just in time for dinner and mother and daughter bicker a bit about how late Suzie seems to be coming home these days as Suzie takes Blue from San and the sisters kind of bond a bit before the pizza is delivered…

Anyway, so my wife and older daughter finish bickering and start to eat the pizza, and the little one, well, she looks at everyone with wonder and curiosity and Suzie starts to offer her a slice of pepperoni and San says, "Suzie!" and Suzie only grins, and says, "What? I was just being polite, seems rude not to offer this to her."

I come between them and get a slice of vegetarian pizza and tell Suzie, "Talk with your mouth full like other normal teenagers, sweetie," then I turn to San and say, "Please just eat" and I take Blue from her and the baby kind of squirms and puts out her arms and seems to protest the loss of San's proximity and San laughs and jokes, "She adores me!" as she takes Blue back and Blue wraps her little arms around San and San smiles and gives the baby a kiss.

"Smart move, baby, I'm the nice parent," San murmurs to Suzie rolling her eyes.

"_So_ not true," Suzie murmurs as she bites into her slice of pizza. San rolls her eyes at this comment.

After Suzie finishes off her slice of pizza, she gets a drink of water and announces, "I'm done, going to go to my room now and brood. That okay, moms? Unless you want me to wash the dishes?"

San and I smile and shake our heads, but I say, "Only a slice of pizza? The end of the world is nigh. You're usually hungry, like all the time, honey."

"I'm on a diet," Suzie says.

San looks at her now and says, "Better try harder. You look the same to me."

"_Mom!_" Suzie whines at San now as San only laughs. "You're mean."

I look at San and shake my head and so San says, "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. You're perfect just the way you are, you don't look fat at all. You don't need to diet. Plus your young, your metabolism's faster. I don't think you should worry about that. Unlike us, who always have to watch what we eat because we eat French fries and it goes straight to our thighs."

I laugh, "Honey, I don't understand why you need to diet, honey, you look great the way you are."

Suzie shrugs, "I need to lose a bit. I mean, if I'm ever going to get into any of those dance schools - I don't think they let slightly chubby people in."

We don't know what to say to that, so we just nod at her as she kisses both of us and kisses Blue on the forehead. I smile at her and I don't even notice she has kissed the baby without wiping her lips first. San notices it and rolls her eyes. San has joked about how OCD I've become since having the baby. I let everyone wash their hands first, and sanitize everything at least twice, which, I have been given to realize, drives Tram, our cleaner, nuts because I make her do it all the time. Tram says sometimes, you have to expose the baby to some germs, too, to strengthen their immune system. I don't know if this is true, but I can't take chances with the baby and I still insist everyone wash their hands before they hold Blue, and make sure they're not sick with anything contagious before getting near the baby.

Anyway, Suzie adores her little sister. And on the rare occasion that she isn't tired or busy, she actually spends time with Blue, and they hang out in her room and I wonder what they're doing, but I saw them one time, and Suzie is lying on her back with the baby on her stomach and Suzie just makes these strange noises and strange faces and Blue just looks at her and giggles softly and plays with Suzie's hair and puts her little hands on Suzie's face and Suzie would laugh and murmur something like, "Ow, not the face, Blue, not the face! Gotta protect the moneymaker! That's how I get girls, dude. Not the face!" And then they both giggle.

As we now have a set routine for Blue to help her develop a more predictable sleeping pattern, which involves feeding her, giving her a bath (we bathe her only two or three times a week as all-too regular baths dry the skin), putting her in pajamas and reading a book to her, or playing music to her or singing a lullaby. San and I take turns putting her to bed and I don't know why, but it takes forever to put her to bed, but San doesn't seem to have that kind of problem.

Anyway, that's how my day went.

Overall a pretty good day.

If I were to grade it, it probably started out a B, then a C but quickly climbed up to an A.

* * *

Dear _,

So here's how my day is usually like:

Wake up around six…

Scratch that, wake up around two am, really, to feed Blue and change Blue's diaper and wait for at least an hour or so before she goes back to sleep, before I go back to sleep myself. Sometimes San does this, so I get a reprieve on those days. We've had a few arguments about whose turn it is, especially when it's the middle of the night, but I've come up with a schedule, posted in our bedroom, in the kitchen, in her office and in the baby room so we don't argue about it anymore, although if she's come home particularly stressed and tired, I let her sleep through it and change and feed the baby myself. Lately she's been complaining about her "pedantic, pontificating" boss and this case they're working on with Native Americans that's got her really stressed, but she seems to be able to handle it well. I'm not particularly clear on the details, as it's an ongoing case, but I've been made to understand that it's a pretty tricky case.

So as Sam has rightfully predicted, Blue changes diapers about ten times a day, which translates to changing diapers about seventy times a week, more or less, but I try to let her go undiapered for a part of the day to air her out, and for, you know, the environment and stuff. I've actually mastered the fine art of diaper changing, and as long as I have diaper ointment, a wash cloth, diaper wapes, cotton balls, baby power and front cotton balls, I'm good.

That brief time we stayed over at the Lopezes actually was a perfect time for me to learn from Mama Lopez and _Abuela_, and the whole time we were there was spent learning lessons on giving the baby a bath, swaddling, how to burp the baby, how to _hold_ the baby (hold the head and neck always) and feeding the baby (fifteen minutes on each breast, I cannot begin to tell you how delighted Sam was when _Mama_ Lopez was explaining all this - yes, yes, Sam always _seems_ to be around these days. Don't ask me why), especially the breast part. I'm pretty good at giving baths to the baby now, I just give her two or three times a week, this is sufficient, Mama Lopez and Blue's pediatrician, Dr. Aziz-Fordham, say, so. I just gave her a bath today, actually. Giving her baths is pretty easy now, all I need is a soft, clean wash cloth, mild, unscented soap, a towel and a blanket, an infant tub with two or three inches of warm water and a clean diaper. When she had been born, Mama Lopez had also taught me how to swaddle Blue, and this involved spreading out the blanket, folding one corner over slightly, laying the baby face up, with her head on the folded corner, wrapping the left corner over the baby and tucking it beneath the back of the baby, going under the right arm, bringing the bottom corner up over the baby's feet and pulling it toward the head, folding the fabric down if it gets close to the face and wrapping the right corner around the baby and tucking it under the baby's back on the left side, leaving only the neck and head exposed.

It had been a great bonding experience actually for San's parents and mine - they kind of spent a lot of time gathering around San and me telling me what we should and should not do and trying to outdo each other with all the baby anecdotes they can remember from when San and I were babies, completely forgetting of course that San already had Suzie, so it's not like she doesn't know how to raise a baby. And I, well, I have San and all the parents on both sides of the families telling me all these things. Before we came back to New York, San's parents insisted we have the baby christened and baptized in Lima and of course what ensued was a lengthy debate on whether the baby is going to be raised Catholic or Jewish. San and I had already decided the baby wasn't going to be raised as anything until she's old enough to choose which religion she prefers to be a part of, much like with Suzie, and of course we tell these to both San's and my parents and they cite Suzie as a prime example of the need to choose Blue's religion for her _now_, so Suzie has not shown any interest in either being Catholic or Jewish, which, we're okay with, obviously. I'd prefer she be either one or the other, but Suzie maintains she believes in God, not in organized religion - that she can actually say "organized religion" and understand what that means is a testament to her intelligence, her education and how well I think we've brought her up that it just makes me proud and it's enough for us to not push it in the first place. Organized religion isn't San's thing either, so. But anyway, we ended up having Blue christened and baptized anyway, because, well, most of our friends were all gathered in Lima anyway, and both sides of the families were there, and really, just for everyone else's sake, especially San's mother and grandmother, not ours, so we ended up having Blue baptized by the local parish priest, Father Hidalgo, who, thankfully, had no qualms about baptizing the baby of two gay moms.

Anyway. I digress.

Blue's in her crib now, just taking a nap. I'm trying to make her develop a sleeping pattern, and for the most part, I can keep her awake during the day and we've kept the stimulation in her room to a minimum, especially at night, but it's sometimes still difficult to put her to sleep. On the plus side, she's such a quiet baby, and she isn't like those other kids who are annoying and irritable and make you just…scream.

She's adorable.

* * *

Dear _,

Motherhood changes your perspective on things.

I've realized this when I started raising Suzie with San, but I realize this even more now that I have Blue.

I now understand why San is very strict and protective with Suzie, where before I just thought she was being too overprotective and controlling.

Anyway, I understand San being like this now because you just don't want your kids to repeat the same mistakes you did. You just don't want to see them get hurt.

For as long as I can remember, San and Suzie have always bickered. Whether it's Suzie's fashion choices, or grades, or dating choices (Kate was the only person San ever approved of), there was always something that they would bicker about. And I think it's interesting because they're both headstrong and feisty and _fierce_.

I think it's because they're a bit more alike than they let on. San's like the strict, no-nonsense dad who always checks up on Suzie's grades and performance in school, or if this were a crime procedural, the bad cop to my good cop routine. San's always been great mother to her though, if a bit strict, and I guess this would have had something to do with the fact that for the longest time it had always been just her and Suzie and it had been tough being a single mom because when Brittany had fallen ill, most of the parenting had fallen on San and there'd been much pressure on her to raise a well-rounded child, just to prove that a child from a lesbian single-parent household would turn out as well, or even better, than a heterosexual, two-parent household. She'd kind of loosened the reins a bit but she still gets worked up when she finds Suzie's grades had dropped a notch or two or she'd done something detention-worthy in school.

I still remember how San had freaked about that one time when she found that pregnancy test stick and thought it was Suzie's. I think it's a bit amusing that she'd freak out over Suzie now becoming a sexually active young adult now, since San herself kind of had that an infamous reputation in high school, which, I am given to understand, Suzie wasn't supposed to ever know about because as San says, "Suzie should live up to the higher ideal of what I should have been in high school, not what I actually _was_. I mean, you don't have that problem, you only mooned over the same annoying stupid guy for all of high school." To which I just roll my eyes to. But then, San's mother had kind of revealed how really out of control San had sometimes been in high school and what San used to do in high school, and Suzie had sat in rapt attention, San's high school antics a cause of endless entertainment for the family as she sat in one corner, getting increasingly annoyed at having her own mother undermine her credibility. I think San's coolness factor kind of increased though after she found out San hadn't been the saint that she had painted herself out to be to her daughter.

At any rate, the bickering is always harmless and stuff, except when Suzie sometimes goes over the line, like that one time we got called to the principal's office when she had one of the boys at her high school kicked in the balls (a favorite sport of hers that we have been trying to wean her off of, but really, trying to wean her off that is like trying to wean fish off water) and we ask her why she keeps getting into trouble and Suzie says, jokingly, "Well, that's probably because there isn't a proper male role model type of person in my life..." That really rubbed San the wrong way even though Suzie had meant nothing by it and was actually just kidding. Yet sometimes, I do see Suzie casually looking sometimes at the other kids who have mothers and fathers, with this longing look in her eyes and she doesn't say anything, but I wonder sometimes if she feels like she's missing out on things just because she has always had two moms and no dads in sight. I dread the day when Suzie actually comes to us and asks us if she can meet her biological father, who, technically isn't even the father, but just the sperm donor, to be honest. I dread the day that Blue would ask us the same thing, too. But I guess we'll cross the bridge when we get there.

But anyway, I don't think we need to worry about Suzie though - she studies hard, and she's really a genuinely good kid. Lately, she's been busy preparing to audition for New York School for the Arts, Julliard, NYADA and New York Academy of Ballet. I think she really doesn't want to audition for NYADA, maybe because I went there and people know me there and once they find out she's my daughter, the pressure to perform would be too great, but I love how Suzie will try to audition anyway, because she loves dance and she doesn't say it in so many words, but she loves to perform, too. I think she's a wonderful dancer. And she's grown an inch again, so she's almost as tall as Santana now, and she looks like a really beautiful fusion of San and Brittany - her hair, long and dark blonde and her eyes dark and intense but make no mistake about it, she's every bit a copy of Santana, and when they fight, it's kind of fascinating, because they kind of unconsciously mirror each other's mannerisms, from the way they both fold their arms in front of their chests, to the way they roll their eyes, to the way they pout, the way they raise an eyebrow, the way they smirk - even those little antics Suzie does in school - those all remind me of San's high school days. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I've been called to the principal's office because of something Suzie has done, or the many times she's been in detention, or the times she's been suspended, and if I had a dollar for every time we grounded her, we'd probably be rich by now. But she's turning sixteen this spring, and she'll be a junior next September, so I think she's kind of concentrating a bit more about the future now. She won't tell me what routine she's preparing for her auditions, but I do know she's been working hard on it. Her grades are pretty good, and San has joked about her spending way too much on a few after school programs, and when she says it's good for getting into college, San only laughs, shakes her head, and says, "Sometimes, it's creepy how much of your Mom you're turning out to be, you know that?" indicating me, of course, and Suzie only rolls her eyes.

She teases Suzie even more when she catches Suzie writing something in her notebook or on the computer and when asked what it is that she is always writing, Suzie just rolls her eyes and says, matter-of-factly, "My to-do lists, my goals, my thoughts, my observations, my notions, you know, regular stuff. Mommy Rach taught me." And then San turns towards me and smirks in my direction, and I roll my eyes in turn because of course, it makes sense to right down your to-do lists, goals, thoughts, observations and notions - I mean that's how you plan your life. "Yeah, regular stuff, that geeky, dorky people do," San comments and I say, in defense of what she has said, "Why, don't you do that stuff, too?" and San looks me in the eye, and with a smirk on her lips, says, "I don't make plans. I just go with the flow. Besides, plans change. I like planning to be…surprised." I roll my eyes at this but then one time, I catch San at her laptop, glasses almost rolling off her nose and I see that she has this Excel spreadsheet out and there are tables on it marked "To-do", "Goals", "Thoughts", "Observations" and "Notions" and I can't help but laugh at her and she looks at me sheepishly and guiltily and as I hug her and kiss her, she says, very defensively, "What? Just trying to see if this thing you guys are doing will work for me, too. Dammit, Rach, you've even got me doing this!"

The other thing that's keeping Suzie busy these days is a part-time job at Luigi's, working as a waitress there, after school. Sometimes, she also babysits for neighbors and stuff. I don't know what she's saving up for, but as San thinks it _is_ important that she also start realizing the value of money and start working for all that stuff that's non-school related (and obviously, it does build character, somehow. San doesn't want either Suzie or Blue to grow up being the spoiled, worthless, good-for-nothings that other kids are) we've allowed her to do so and she seems to be enjoying being able to have her own money, since it does give her even more independence. When she isn't hanging out with her friends, especially Raj, playing video games or something (with the door always open) or Skype-ing with Kate (I don't know how that's going to turn out, I don't think Kate is coming for the summer, but they do keep in touch, and I think Kate will always be Suzie's best friend) or going out on dates-we're encouraging her to meet other people, and she's gone out on dates (group dates or only the two of them - the group dates are usually reserved for when she goes out with guys, but when it's just the two of them, it's usually with girls. We usually notice when she's dating a girl, she usually dresses up more), she just hangs out at home.

I think it's safe to say she's gay, and prefers girls more than boys, although she hasn't said anything yet. I kind of worry a bit about her, it wasn't easy for San to come out, and it certainly wasn't easy for me either - and though Broadway and Hollywood have been gay forever, there's this conflicting set of messages sent out that if you're gay, you can't actually pull off playing straight, and I don't understand really why sexuality or sexual orientation should come into play when you're trying to bag a role, but yes, it had been a struggle for a while, but the keeping my personal life very private has helped with getting roles, and also proving that I was good enough that my sexuality and sexual orientation needn't be an issue. So, yes, we kind of worry about Suzie and how tough it's going to be for her, but if this is who she really is, and it's what makes her happy, who are we to get in the way of her happiness? We're sometimes kind of torn, we want what's best for her, and we don't want her to get hurt, and we kind of want to protect her from a world that can be harsh and cruel and intolerant, but as San keeps saying, when this comes up, "We can't protect her from the world forever, Rach. She has to find out about these things on her own. The only thing we can do is let her know we love her and support her and will be there for her." She's right of course. I just don't want Suzie getting hurt, is all. Thankfully, even though late adolescence has kicked in, Suzie still doesn't think it's uncool to confide to your mother, and she still talks a little bit about these things to me. Well, mostly she talks about girls, but sometimes, that proves to be a bit more awkward. And last time, she told me, "So, Mom, tell me about orgasms. How does one achieve that and how do I help the other person to get off?" that kind of just made me very embarrassed and I look at her and say, "You know what, honey, I…don't think I can do this?" She'd looked at me then and said, "Well, why not?" And I smile uncertainly at her and say, "Because it's weird, honey. I used to give you baths and dress you and put you to bed and read you bedtime stories. It's too weird to talk about orgasms with you now." Suzie only rolls her eyes at this and smiles.

Anyway, much like San before, I kind of realize I don't think I even want to think about Blue sleeping around in high school or losing her virginity until she's at least thirty or something. Or maybe forty.

In fact, looking at Blue now, all I ever want to do is protect her from all the pain and cruelty and inhumanity of the world and I sometimes wonder what I'm going to do when she grows up and realizes she doesn't need me anymore.

I don't think I even want to think about that.

I look at Suzie now and I sometimes find myself being amazed - Suzie seems like her own person now, independent and fully capable of making her own decisions and she looks so pretty and confident and just such a healthy, well-rounded teenager, I sometimes can't believe I was able to pull off being one-half of the same sex/two-parent/stepfamily household - I mean, you hear the horror stories, horrible stepdaughters and all that, but she's been so wonderful and I loved every minute of being able to raise her, and raise her as my own and sometimes I kind of miss the young Suzie, because this Suzie doesn't seem to need us anymore and yet sometimes, if not most times, I still worry about her…her future, her life, everything…I guess she'll always be my child to me, even when she's probably forty or fifty and already has kids of her own. You never stop being a parent just because your child is all grown-up now…_sigh_…

So, yes, I guess motherhood _does_ change your perspective on things.

* * *

Dear _,

So I don't know how to start this without actually freaking out or something but…

I think something's wrong with Blue.

I'm not sure what it is, but I think something's wrong. And we're going to the doctor today for that. It's an understatement to say that I'm really, really worried, but we won't know for sure until Dr. Aziz-Fordham runs some tests on her.

It started out with little things, you know?

The fact that she doesn't react to loud noises.

The fact that she doesn't wake up to loud noises.

The fact that she won't really react to my voice unless I speak very loud.

The fact that she doesn't seem to listen or recognize my voice or San's or Suzie's or even answer to her name or turn her head at familiar sounds, like the phone ringing or something unless the sound is really loud or something.

I wouldn't have noticed it except we went to one of these play dates and I kind of noticed how the other babies responded to noises and voices and stuff like that and I noticed how Blue seemed to be in her own little world, ignoring the blocks of alphabets like the other kids, _not_ stacking at all, or making noises, or something. And then I start thinking of those times when we tried to put her to bed and I realized that's why it took such a long time to put her to bed.

What's perplexing is the fact that sometimes she does respond to noise, but sometimes she doesn't.

San tells me I'm just being paranoid and babies are all different, and maybe Blue will catch up to the other babies soon.

I don't know what's going on, and what the test results will yield, but I hope everything is going to be alright.

So motherhood is everything it's cracked up to be and more.

But, it's also making me kind of afraid. And anxious. And really worried...

* * *

_**Author's end notes:**_

_**That's it for this chapter!**_

_**Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. You may notice a change in format and yes, I kind of changed it up a bit to vary the storytelling style a bit. :) Hope you like!**_

_**Also many thanks for reading and reviewing. Your kind reviews are welcome.**_

_**Also, please thank my beta DragonsWillFly, who kept me motivated and encouraged even when I was feeling down and facing a brick wall with this story, because the beta kept me going even when I couldn't go on anymore. So, thanks beta!**_

_**Also, special thanks to MeLovePezberry - your reviews for all the chapters of this story made my day and prompted me to post this chapter a day early.**_

_**Also, it took a while, but I have been dying to get to this part of the story, because I actually have a specific second and third part of the story in mind and as the story unfolds, you will get why the title is like that as well - the clue is in the title. :) Also, feel free to check out the songs featured in this chapter, as well. :)**_

_**Now on to your comments:**_

_**To w1cked and Alloverme - Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you like this part of the story, too!**_

_**To kickangel - Hey! As I've already responded to your review, I won't repeat what I said there, except only to say, many, many thanks as always for your kind reviews - they power me through and inspire me to keep writing. :) Hope you like this chapter,too! (P.S. Hope you don't mind - I borrowed a bit from our conversation - re: One Tree Hill).**_

_**To pictureofsuccess - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing! You write the nicest reviews. Glad you liked the pacing of chapter 5 and the writing it out-of-sequence as I kind of tried to figure out how to make it seem different and refreshing. Hope you like this chapter, too! RE: As for these quality chapters (thanks for the kind words) and being glad for whatever magic is responsible - hahah! I get inspiration from everywhere, but I also have an awesome beta who always encourages me, and readers like you who encourage me, so there's that. And also, as long as Glee continues to churn out stuff that makes my chest ache with rage, I will churn out these stories because..well…I find they're much more effective and healthier creatively and infinitely more fun than actually blogging about it. Hahaha! Again, thank you and hope you enjoyed this chapter, too!**_

_**To MelovePezberry - Hey! Welcome back! Just want to say, you singlehandedly made me want to post this chapter earlier than usual with your encouraging, inspiring, chapter by chapter review, so thank you for that! You made my day! Glad you are enjoying it with the girlfriend! Congrats! Also, glad you liked all the chapters thus far, from Santana's back story, to Rachel's cravings, to featuring more of the Glee characters here (yes, that was always the intention) and so on. So, thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too! Cheers!**_


	8. Pt 2: Sounds, Silences and Miracles

Dear _,

San and our friends have always thought I've always been slightly obsessive compulsive with a lot of things. I need to plan things in advance, I need lists and goals and projections and plans A and B and C and D all the way to Z and have back-up plans to the back-up plans, storyboard things. I either buy stuff in bulk or in twos. I'm the kind of person who'd be on the pill, and still be wearing a diaphragm and still insist the guy wear a condom. When it rains, I have an umbrella and wear raincoats. When it's summer, I wear sunblock but will wear long-sleeved shirts and pants and hats to make sure I don't get sunburned and get skin cancer. When it's winter I bundle up to make sure I don't catch a cold. When I get sick, I take all kinds of medicine and take soup and herbal remedies and take sponge baths. I never take risks unless I have a back-up plan. When I applied to NYADA, I'd also applied to other schools, because even though all I ever wanted was to enter NYADA, I wanted to make sure I had options, I had a back-up plan, I had fail safe plans.

Okay, so maybe _not_ so slightly obsessive compulsive.

When it comes to love though, that's another thing altogether.

You can't storyboard love. Or choose who to love. Or plan it. Or prevent it. I know I'm sounding a bit insipid now, and if San ever reads any of this, I'll never hear the end of it, but it is true. From my experience anyway. Though I had cared for Finn deeply he had been one of those things in my life before that was hard to plan for. One minute he loved me, the next minute he was cheating on me with Quinn, and then cheating on Quinn with me, or proposing marriage to me because he didn't really have a future planned, and then dumping me and sending me off to New York on the day we were supposed to get married. And then there was Puck and Jesse and that guy from NYADA and then there was my ex-husband - and I can't quite explain now how we ended up together in the first place, but suffice it to say, caring for someone kind of makes you exhausted and it makes you want to give up on love entirely.

But then there was San.

San happened.

And that was something else entirely.

But then there was Suzie…and now Blue.

The kids, _our_ kids, happened.

And that's a whole new ball game altogether.

* * *

Dear _,

And corny as it may sound, San - I think I'll probably love till the day I die.

And Suzie and Blue, well…I love them with all my heart and with every fiber of my being.

They're perfect.

And this little family I have - I think it's made me really complete. Like I could never ask for more.

* * *

Dear _,

It's been a while since I've written in this journal, I couldn't quite muster up the energy or interest or inspiration or even _strength_, to write here.

So much has happened since I'd gone to the doctor with Blue.

Actually we'd gone to a couple of other doctors to get a second, and a third opinion, because I had wanted to make sure, but they've all kind of come up with the same diagnosis.

The thing is - Blue was supposed to be reacting to loud noises or wake up to loud noises or start turning her head towards sounds, or like playing with toys that make noise, or stop to listen to voices at specific stages at her age, but she hasn't. Yes, she smiles at me, responds to me and San and Suzie, but she doesn't really respond to us when her back is turned. She's supposed to be answering to her name by six months already, and move from babbling to making many different baby talk sounds or start to understand simple words but she hasn't been doing that. After a few months, I also noticed that she isn't even copying the sounds she hears or answer simple questions or do simple tasks, like give me a toy when I ask her, or point to parts of the body I ask her, or use a few simple words, or even follow simple directions. She kind of stopped babbling and mostly just…grunts and points and gets really upset when no one understands her. And she kind of sometimes just stays in her own little world and I had been afraid, for a while now, that she might be autistic, too.

Her other motor skills were okay - she'd started crawling right on schedule, started walking right on schedule - both accomplishments in their own right and videoed for posterity and filed for when we have company over, ready to be shown at a moment's notice and marked on my diary and on the calendar and on those progress charts I make of Blue's development.

But all that has been eclipsed by the fact that these simple things I noticed - Blue not speaking, Blue not hearing - suggested that there was something wrong with her.

As the months passed, Blue also seemed to grow a bit more temperamental, especially when she needed something and she couldn't say it and she'd start to throw a tantrum or start crying or start throwing things around - like that one time we'd both gone to the grocery store to buy some groceries and she was trying to tell me something that I could not understand, because it was mostly gestures and just her pointing at stuff and she'd lost her temper and started making a scene in the store and I was all sorts of confused and embarrassed and feeling sorry for her. Sometimes, when she's playing, I see her begin to eviscerate toys, decapitating heads and arms and legs off of teddy bears and dolls and what-not and start throwing them against the wall and I don't know what to do with that.

It's hard when she gets like this, because I never know how to respond - do I get angry at her, do I shout at her, do I ground her? The thing is, I also need to be careful with Blue - those infant tests have revealed that not only does she have a weak heart, she also has weak lungs and probably weak eyesight and I already feel bad about this, because it all seems to have been aggravated by her being born prematurely and I'd already witnessed firsthand her having an asthma attack and you have no idea how stressful that can be for me.

Anyway, after a visit with Dr. Aziz-Fordham and a series of comprehensive tests, the doctor has said Blue isn't autistic, she just has mild to moderate hearing loss - meaning she can't hear normal speech, but she can hear if a person speaks in a loud voice. This can prove a problem, she says, since Blue'll have a hard time developing her language and speech skills, as she needs to hear the words or sounds very clearly and she can't. Blue's hearing loss is some kind of mixed hearing loss or something and the doctor has said there's some problem with the sounds not being transferred from the outer to the inner ear. There might quite possibly be some damage to the inner ear. Blue can't hear very well in both ears. I don't know if this can still change over time. The doctor says it could get worse or it could stay the same. I asked her what could have caused it and she says it could be a variety of factors, it could have been because she had been born prematurely, but it could just as well have been that she was just born that way, that it's genetic or something. San and I had made sure the donor was healthy, but even when you plan for these things in every possible way, something always turns out wrong. And it could just as well be from either my side of the family or San's. As I don't have the full details of my birth mother's background, I guess it could just as easily from Shelby's side of my family. But who knows? The doctor says that since Blue's hearing loss isn't conductive, it can't be corrected by surgery or medication, and her best chance would be hearing aids and cochlear implants.

There were a number of other things the doctor told me, and she'd given me some brochures and pamphlets (one, which says, "So, Your Child is Hearing-Impaired" that reminded me a bit of Ms. Pillsbury's borderline offensive pamphlets that had titles like, "So, Your Girlfriend is a 'Ho" and stuff like that) and the contact number of a support group called PCHILD (Parents of Children Living with Disabilities) that she says could probably help me with some of the problems or issues or challenges I might face with raising Blue. "Even if the people at PCHILD won't be able to help you with some questions you may have, I think it would be great to just be with other parents who know what it feels like to raise a child living with a disability. It makes you feel like you're not alone." I kind of look at the pink PCHILD brochure blankly as the doctor says there is actually a PCHILD Brooklyn Chapter and I know already that I don't think I'm going.

She drones on and on about a lot of other things that kind of just go into one ear and out the other, and as I sit there listening to the doctor with Blue squirming in my arms, all I can think of is Blue can't hear and find myself asking myself how do I deal with that, on top of everything else? Because…on top of Blue's weak heart, and weak lungs and problems with her eyesight, I don't think I can do this…

We go out into the hot summer sun and all I can think of is I don't think I can do this…

* * *

Dear _,

So I google everything that needs to be googled about hearing loss in children, and I go to online bookstores and the Chapters bookstore down the street, to get my hands on books about hearing loss in children, and when I've put Blue to bed, and everyone else is asleep, I sit up and read up on the information and learned about the types of hearing loss (conductive, sensorineural and combined conductive and sensorineural hearing loss), unilateral and bilateral hearing loss, causes of hearing loss, treatments, methods of communication and methods of teaching. I've googled and googled and read and read and till I couldn't anymore, till my eyes hurt and my brain couldn't absorb the new information anymore and there's so much to take in and I don't even know where to start and it's all so overwhelming.

So, the worst part of all of this agonizing and worrying and anxiety is having to deal the stress and strain all of this is putting on my relationship with San and to a lesser extent, on Suzie, too.

The trips to the doctors alone had been nerve-wracking and I'd already debated how to break the news to San as lately she seems to be distracted, moodier and more distracted and easily irritable than usual, like something's bothering her. It gets worse when I ask her about work and she goes on about her boss, Wolfram and that Native American case and somehow, Quinn's boss? Harris is involved as well and she goes on and on and when she's done ranting and raving, she stops, apologizes, looks at me and smiles tiredly and asks me how my day went and I think to myself there's really no right or wrong way to break the news except to think of it as like ripping a bandage or a band-aid as quickly as possible (I'd originally thought of doing a special dinner to break the news, but San already knows as well as I do that a special dinner usually means I either bear good news, or if it's extra special, really bad news) so I just finally tell her..

When I eventually finish with what the results have yielded and what the doctor has said, and it eventually sinks in, she only stands there, in the kitchen, her arms folded in front of her chest, face impassive, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, her eyes the only thing betraying a little emotion, as I stand before her, on the verge of tears, as she asks occasional questions like a damned lawyer cross-examining her witness ("Are you sure it's irreversible?" "Are you sure it's inoperable?" "Are you sure this doctor is competent?" "Are you sure about those tests?" "Maybe we should get a second opinion?" and, just to annoy me, "Are you certain?" which makes me just want to scream at her) and there is a silence between us, a heartbeat, in which we look at each other, and we do not speak, and she sort of looks like she's finally made a decision because she kind of nods and steps forward and puts her arms around me and holds me, and whispers, "It's going to be okay" and "We'll get through this" over and over and over again. And as the relief comes over me (why do I feel like this is my fault even though the doctor assures me it isn't?), I take a deep breath and exhale and hold her close, and it feels good somehow, her holding me like this…

But why do I have the feeling it's not going to be okay?

* * *

Dear _,

So I have scheduled an appointment with a doctor regarding hearing aids and implants. I think that's one of the best options we have right now so Blue can start learning speech and language quickly. I've scheduled appointment with a speech therapist, too, who is going to help Blue and help me help Blue in regards to developing her speech and language skills. As soon as we figure out how the hearing aids and implants work, Blue can start learning how to speak, learn basic words, simple stuff and maybe basic sign language, finger spelling and lip reading.

I'm kind of nervous about the appointments. I don't know how they're going to work out. I've asked San if she could come with me, but she says she's very busy so I guess it's just going to be me and Blue then.

* * *

Dear _,

So it's been slow work, working with Blue, and between Blue always trying to take off the hearing aid from her ears, and throwing stuff against the wall and giving either the doctor or the therapist the evil eye, and she isn't as responsive as we thought she might be, and since she's a few months older now (I am so not looking forward to the toddler years, which, in a few months, she will be), she has the attention span of one as well. But I'm feeling hopeful she'll eventually learn.

The guy, who had given us Blue's hearing aid, sported blonde hair and kept saying dude all the time, was all like, "Hey, do you know Captain Kirk had three ears?"

Thanks to my friendship with Sam, I actually know who that is and even though I wasn't really in the mood and the guy, looks like a total dork as he flips his bangs away from his broad forehead and pushes his thick glasses up his nose and smiles to reveal huge square teeth jutting out of his mouth, and I smile tightly and say, "Yes?"

The guy grins, offering me a disturbing view of his teeth (_ugh_) says, "Sure. His right ear, his left ear and the final front ear."

It takes a huge amount of restraint to _not_ roll my eyes or go Santana Lopez (meaning go "Lima Heights Adjacent") on this guy but I just smile at him, take the box of hearing aids from him and leave the clinic as quickly as we can, but not before the guy says, "So, your kid's like, hearing-impaired and everything and it's moderate or whatever? And she isn't used to hearing things as clearly as she used to? So she will have a hard time hearing all these new sounds now so it's going to take a lot of getting used to? And she might freak out at first because she's hearing all these new stuff but she's going to get used so just chill and stuff, yeah, okay?"

Just chill. I wish it were that easy. I nod and thank him and we leave the clinic into a bright, warm morning.

* * *

Dear _,

So there's an interesting theory called the Baby Learning Theory, advocated by Noam Chomsky, which believes that the children are born with an inherited ability to learn any human language, children already having been born with an imprint of certain linguistic structures already in their minds and thus, every child has a "language acquisition device" which encodes the major principles of a language and its grammatical structures into the child's brain and the only thing a child needs to learn is new vocabulary and applying syntactic structures to form sentences. Chomsky believes all languages contain nouns, verbs, consonants and vowels and children appear "hard-wired" to acquire the language and can become fluent in a few years.

I don't know why, but that information that I came across a few days ago, while on the internet, looking at language acquisition theories, like the total geeky English major that I am, gives me a measure of comfort.

Put in another way, I know Blue and I can still communicate, but that Blue would need even more special care than most, and she does try her best, even if half of the time she gets frustrated, but the doctor says to just give it time.

And so, I speak to her and sign to her, and read her stories, taking care that she sees me and my lips moving and my fingers signing, as I read fairy tale stories ("Beauty and the Beast", "Snow White and Seven Dwarves", "Sleeping Beauty" and "Hansel and Gretel" all don't seem to get a response from her whenever I read them to her before she goes to sleep) or sing her songs ("Itsy Bitsy Spider" and other childhood staples also don't seem to get the much-needed reaction from her) and sometimes I just feel so frustrated and depressed at her lack of reaction (or is it maybe interest?) and I go to bed feeling so frustrated and drained and hopeless.

San tries her best as well, and she and Suzie have been learning sign language like I have and have been trying to communicate with Blue but they get as frustrated or even more so just trying to communicate with Blue and any attempts at conversation with her usually ends with either a tantrum or something being thrown - usually by her, or just…Blue kind of losing interest and refusing to talk to any of us at all, spending hours, instead, just playing with her Legos and blocks and other toys, stacking them all in one corner of her room before smashing them, or throwing them against the wall or doing something creative to them, like trying to see if she can break them or something.

I don't know what to do.

* * *

Dear _,

So I tried to go to that PCHILD support group chapter meeting with Blue. Surprisingly, it was at a small auditorium only a few blocks from Luigi's and as Blue and I walked down the hallway and stop right in front of the door to the PCHILD meeting, I hesitate. The door was ajar and I could see a large empty space with a plastic chairs and metal chairs arranged in a circle with parents and their kids from all walks of life talking and chatting and stuff and I don't know why, but a quick look inside that room and I find myself taking a step back and wanting to leave the place as soon as I can.

I find myself walking down the hall _away_ from the PCHILD meeting as quickly as I can.

* * *

Dear _,

Blue and I got home today and after I'd unbundled Blue out of her coat and her scarf and her cap and everything else (it's beginning to get a bit colder these days, fall's coming early this year I think), we found Suzie sulking in the living room, arms folded in front of her, refusing to look at us when we come into the living room. When Blue tries to get her attention (Suzie is, by far, Blue's favorite person aside from her parents), Suzie gently tries to pry her tiny fingers away from Suzie's arm and as I sit down and ask her, "What's wrong?" Suzie says, flatly and crossly, "You missed my audition at NYADA" before she gets up, stomps out of the room and up the stairs sulkily, and slams her bedroom door so loudly I grimace.

* * *

Dear _,

So Suzie apologized for sulking and for throwing a fit the other day when I missed her audition at NYADA. I know she has every right to be mad, we've been busy as of late, me with Blue mostly and San with her work, and there's also my work with the Foundation and everything else, I guess it upset her not only that I missed it but also because she hadn't gotten in and I hadn't been there for her, like I should have been. I did apologize for missing her audition, and Suzie, understanding child that she is, had said it was okay, she understands, it wasn't very mature of her to have done what she has done and she says she promises to act more mature next time adults disappoint her. I feel a bit guilty and a bit annoyed at the same time, because I've got my hands full at the moment and Suzie making me feel guilty on top of that isn't helping. I tell her as much and she feels bad and apologizes and we eventually kind of fix it but I feel like this is not the last I'll hear of this.

I know it's been hard to juggle all these things, and it's hard to juggle the increasing demands of a growing family, but I wish people would just give me a break sometimes. I'm not perfect, I'll be the first to admit that, but I wish people would cut me some slack for missing such and such because _I'm only human after all_.

* * *

Dear _,

We don't speak, San and I.

Or even discuss in depth what's going on with Blue.

Or rather, we do, except I don't really tell her what I really think or feel, because I don't want to seem like a big drama queen for feeling guilty that this quite possibly is my fault, or this is some kind of punishment, or this is really hard, or I don't think I'm cut out for this, or I don't think I can pull it off, or sometimes I feel so alone in this, or that I wish it would all go away.

San kind of has accepted Blue's condition much more easily than I have and I know I should accept it in the same manner she has, and that this is the hand that we've been dealt with, but I can't help but be resentful and be a bit angry and frustrated and anxious and just generally confused about all this. I mean, she's right, at least Blue's condition isn't anything life threatening or debilitating or _worse_, although what's worse than being hearing-impaired on top of having weak lungs and a weak heart and weak eyesight, I don't know.

I give San updates on how Blue is doing, during dinner, whilst we have dinner with Suzie and Blue, but then we kind of get to that awkward moment where we don't really know what else to talk about and Suzie, predictably, picks this time to ask to be excused quickly. Lately she's either in her room, refusing to come down at all (I'd missed her audition at New York School for the Arts and Julliard as well) or just stays out late or works late enough so she doesn't have to see us.

I've apologized to Suzie repeatedly and I've promised I'd be there for when she auditions for the New York Academy of Ballet and she only nods and says, "Okay. But don't make promises you can't keep." When I look at her with hurt in my eyes, she mutters guiltily, "Sorry, Mom." When I say nothing, she says, "I know you've got your hands full with Blue, but I wish you could come, too." I think she's a sentence away from saying that ever since Blue came along, we haven't hung out as much as we should or talk as much as we should or something, and I know I'm being remiss with my other mother duties, and San hasn't been spending a lot of time with either child and when she _does_ have free time, she tries to spend it with Blue except she doesn't really know how to communicate to the child since the child can barely hear her and it frustrates her and before we know it, she's locked in her office typing away some legal brief or other, or going to the office with the excuse that she has to work late or something.

* * *

Dear _,

So remember that fund-raising marathon Dave and Zee were planning for the Foundation?

Well, that kind of fell through. They actually postponed it indefinitely after the bombing that happened over at a Washington marathon. It was a good call, I know. Big crowds, lots of publicity, perfect for sending a very public, very brutal message.

What's the world coming to these days?

It's not the first time I've wondered about that.

It's not the first time I've thought about the kids, especially Blue's safety, especially with the added disability she has. I mean, what's going to happen if there's an actual shooting that she could barely hear, or she's in the park or walking home from school or the mall and she gets jumped or mugged or something and she doesn't even have the chance to defend herself? I know, I know, I'm being the overprotective Mom, and I know there are ways to make sure your child who is living with a disability can survive a hearing world, but…the more I hear about this on the news, the more I worry, and the more I want to take the kids away from the city and into somewhere safer, just so Blue can at least have some kind of normal childhood, because Blue is already on her way to _not_ having an ordinary life.

* * *

Dear _,

So Macpherson called me today and asked me if I was ready to go back to work. Blue's nearly a year now and she's walking and feeling independent and stuff. Macpherson seems quite keen on having me go back to work, but I am not sure, you see, what with Blue's…condition.

He'd sent me a script and I'd slowly scanned it in between free time from Blue and housework and it seemed okay, except for some brief nudity and love scenes (which I know San will take issue with. What am I saying? She'll probably be upset even right after I say the word "nudity". We argue a lot about nudity and love scenes in the movies or television shows or magazine shoots I do. In a nutshell - she doesn't like it, in fact, she _loathes_ it, and I think it's just a natural part of the art-making process. This of course goes into a big debate on how nudity and love scenes aren't good especially if you're in a committed relationship because that just encourages actors to…stray from their partners, to which I just roll my eyes to because I don't think that's ever going to happen. I love San too much for that and frankly, I've seen what's out there and frankly I'd much prefer San a billion times over the other actors, or producers or directors who more often than not, really just want to sleep with me and nothing else, but San can be adamant sometimes) and I am unsure about it, but Macpherson tells me I have to make a decision now, this is an acclaimed film director, he says, but I am torn between accepting it or giving it up because of Blue…

Actually, lately I've been thinking of briefly taking a break from everything so I can concentrate more on Blue…

I don't know what that's going to do to my career though…you hear the nightmare stories of actors never quite regaining lost glory or even never being able to get back up the horse at all but… it's my daughter we're talking about here…I can't just leave her.

Sigh.

* * *

Dear _,

So tonight was supposed to be the night San and I were supposed to go out for date night.

But Suzie, who'd promised to babysit for us, had been late. She got held up at work and by the time she arrived, we'd already lost our reservation at the restaurant. So we decided to go somewhere else instead, but there was Blue throwing one of her insufferable tantrums again.

So, San had stood by the doorway of the baby room as I tried to calm Blue down and after, she'd left and I'm guessing she headed for our bedroom, because that's where I find her, reading one of those stupid legal briefs she reads right before bed.

Anyway, we ended up just spending time in our room when I'd put Blue to bed and we just started talking and before either of us knew it, we ended up being in the middle of a long, and much-needed make-out session, but then the baby monitor announces Blue wanting something and San had rested her forehead against mine and whispered, "Baby…hold on…"

But Blue kept making all these noises and I couldn't kind of ignore it and I was getting anxious and impatient and San just kept wanting to make the sex last longer and I don't know, I'm already distracted and it's really hard to get off anyway when you're distracted and I really have difficulty with that when I'm anxious or worried, especially these days and San already knows this and I get a bit annoyed and I kind of blurt out, impatiently, "Just…get it over with already!" And San stops, lifts her head up and stares at me for so long I start to blush, before she pulls herself slowly out, lifts herself off of me, gets up off the bed, goes to the bathroom and slams the door behind her. Later, when I hear the shower running, I sigh, put my robe on and go to Blue's bedroom.

* * *

Dear _,

The worst part is the stress.

And the tension.

And the arguing.

I mean, San and I have fought before, but I don't know. It feels different somehow.

* * *

Dear _,

San and I argued today about me wanting San to be more involved in raising Blue.

"Are you saying I'm not doing enough to help Blue?" San had asked.

"I didn't say that," I'd say, knowing as I was saying it that I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place and that this is going to be yet another argument again.

"Because you know I'm swamped with work and I can't just take time off any damn time I please," San had said.

"I know that," I say. "I just think…"

"You just think I don't do enough for this family, that's what this is," San had said, sounding, for all intents and purposes, like she's accusing me.

"I didn't say that," I had said again. "I just wish you'd…come with us sometimes, when we go to the doctor…I mean this is hard enough as it is and…"

"Damn it, Rach, I'm doing the best that I can," San snaps at me. "What do you want from me?"

"I just wish you'd just be there…for us…for me…!" I blurt out, a little irritated because I can't believe San doesn't get it and I think that sets San off.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a horrible mom and a horrible partner and what the fuck, Rach?" San says now. "Why does everything have to be such a big dramatic…_thing_ for you? This isn't a big deal, Rach. Blue's fine and…"

"San, I'm not being a big drama queen over this…"

"Well, it sounds like you are, Rach," San had said. "This isn't about you, Rach. This is about Blue…"

"Don't you think I know that?" I say.

"And you think I don't?" San asks me now. "You think I'm not as terrified as you are about this? You think I don't worry about Blue, too? You think just because I don't say anything I'm okay with everything? God, Rach, just because I don't say anything doesn't mean I don't care at all."

And when she says this, I feel shame, disappointment, in myself, in everything, in nothing in particular, and I want to hold San, but she'd already left our room, but before she does, I see her eyes filling up with tears.

I am horrible.

* * *

Dear _,

So, Blue had one of those tantrums again.

San and Suzie had come home to Blue throwing stuff at me and at the wall in her room, before Blue proceeds to start banging her head against the wall and I look at San and Suzie and they both don't know what to say, and Suzie mutters, "I'm going to make dinner" and San says, "I need to work."

Dinner after was kind of awkward, with Blue in her chair playing with her food and giggling as she picks up food with her spoon and aims the food at either Suzie, me or the wall. I can't begin to tell you how our kitchen wall has taken on a different color since Blue learned to eat solid food. Suzie doesn't seem in the mood though because she only scowls at Blue and Blue looks at her and then starts to cry and Suzie only rolls her eyes, and leaves the table, taking her plate with her.

"Suzie," I say.

"What?" Suzie asks.

When I indicate Blue looking all upset, Suzie rolls her eyes and says, "I'm tired, Mom. I've got homework to do, let's do this later." And then she's off like a shot, leaving me and Blue and San in the room. Nobody speaks after, with Blue just beating her chair with her spoon.

Anyway, later, after I've put Blue to bed and go to our bedroom and wash and brush my teeth and do all that stuff I do before I go to bed, San, who is reading one of those legal briefs before she goes to bed, looks at me and removes those glasses from her eyes, puts down the document, looks at me, is silent for a while, before she says, "Those tantrums are getting worse, Rach."

_Rach_.

Rach! San's calling me _Rach_, for pete's sake. Aaargh. I don't know why but this just annoys me.

Anyway, I just nod and say, "I know."

"If we don't do anything about it, she's going to think it's okay to throw a tantrum to get what she wants," San had continued, as I sit on the bed and San scoots over and puts her hands on my shoulders and starts to gently knead them.

I nod again and say, "I know."

There is a silence as San continues to massage my shoulders and I close my eyes and lean back and San's arms close around me and she pulls me towards herself. She kisses me on the neck before she leans her chin on my shoulder. After a few moments, she says, "Just because she's hearing-impaired doesn't mean we have to treat her any differently."

Hearing-impaired.

There. It's out. Blue is _hearing-impaired_.

I don't know why but the way she says it, so casually, just irritated me then and as San continues to speak and tell me, "I think it's important that she be treated normally…" I think I lose it. I think I want to scream. I think I want to just get angry. Because her continuing to speak, bringing up disciplining methods, like maybe making Blue stand in a corner or something, like she's with Blue every day, trying to teach her to speak and communicate and do sign language just irks me and I don't know what comes over me but I say, "You don't get to decide what's best for Blue!"

San is silent again before she says, "Rach…I…"

I pull away from San, and I get up and I feel her hands on my wrists and I push her back and I head for the door and slam it a little bit too loudly and I head down to the living room and lie on the couch and don't come back up until I'm sure she's fallen asleep.

* * *

Dear _,

And then there's the rage sometimes.

This inexplicable rage I sometimes feel. For nothing and no one in particular and I can't explain it and it confuses and shames me but I don't know how to control it.

And then there's that feeling of being trapped, like a wounded animal, or a caged hyena, or like a person drowning in quicksand, like I can't escape, like I'm feeling suffocated, like I can't breathe…and I want to know why. I want to know why this is happening and I ask and I ask but no answer comes.

And then, rage.

* * *

Dear _,

Sometimes, I just find myself crying.

And it comes at the most inopportune times.

Like I'd be giving Blue a bath and I don't know, before I know it, my tears are running down my cheeks.

Or I'd be in the grocery store, with Blue in the shopping cart and we'd be buying stuff and my eyes well up with tears and I have to rush with the grocery buying because I really don't want to have a public breakdown at a grocery store.

And then, when I get to the comfort of our own house, I break down and cry, letting it all out because…I don't know how to deal with this and I feel so lost and alone and just…

* * *

Dear _,

Sometimes, I just feel like running away.

Maybe finally learn to drive a car, drive a car to anywhere and keep going and never come back.

Or maybe take the next flight out of New York, to some place no one will ever find, at the edge of the world and never come back.

Sometimes, I dream of just giving up everything and starting over somewhere else.

Then maybe I'd be free. Of everything. Of everyone. Of all these _things_.

Sometimes…I dream of destruction.

* * *

Dear _,

I should probably talk to someone, I know.

I think sometimes I'll go out of my mind, trying to teach Blue to communicate, trying to deal with San and Suzie, trying to deal with what life has dealt us and it's just…_hard_.

Maybe I should talk to a friend, or even a therapist. Just anyone. Because I know, keeping all this inside is horrible and it's just going to blow up one day and it's not going to be good, but going to therapy sessions is always such a tedious, awkward exercise in letting a complete stranger in on your innermost, most private thoughts and friends, well, yes, I can talk to friends, sure, but right now, I don't think whatever they're going to say will make me feel better. In fact, it will probably just make me angry, knowing their lives are perfect and they don't have to worry about anything and I do. Because Sam will probably spout some annoying trivia that will probably make me want to strangle him, and Mike won't be helping, he'll be talking trivia right beside Sam, and Kurt, well, Kurt will either bake cookies or make designs, and Quinn will think of something snarky and Gloria will think of some inappropriate information to share and I just can't deal with all of that.

Maybe I should go to that PCHILD support group thing but I feel like that's just going to make me feel even more depressed.

Most of all, I really just want to be left alone.

* * *

Dear _,

It's probably easier maybe to look for someone to blame, someone to get angry with, someone to pin this problem on, but the truth of the matter is, it probably is nobody's fault - it was just a series of random things that contributed to Blue's condition now: genetics, a premature birth, a whole number of other reasons, and yet, late at night, as I lay staring up at the ceiling, I can't help but blame myself. I can't help but think - I should have been more careful when I was pregnant with her, I should have stopped working when the doctor suggested I take it easy, I should have taken more vitamins, worked less, slept more, ate more healthily, cut down on the Krispy Kreme, exercised more, I don't know. And maybe earlier - maybe we should have looked at the donors more closely, scrutinized them more, insisted on a more thorough background check on them, genes and all. And sometimes, I find myself thinking - maybe, maybe, I shouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place. I'd been too selfish, too stubborn, too _old_, to have gotten pregnant. I had known the risks of getting pregnant at my age and I knew there might be some sort of complication one way or another and I should have thought of that when I found out I was pregnant with Blue. And then I start asking myself - why had I wanted to be pregnant in the first place? What was it for? Was it for some primal instinct? Some singular, atavistic urge to procreate? To pass the genes on? Or maybe I had this unabashed, more shameful fear of being forgotten - because life is fleeting and fame is even more fleeting and having a child actually means you kind of live on in a child longer, pass your legacy on - because having a child is a bigger legacy than you can hope to imagine, you have actually created a whole human being with another person and being able to do that, doesn't that count as some kind of _masterpiece_? The greatest work of art you can ever hope to create? Doesn't that make you think you're a bit of or less of a god?

Oh, god, if I'm thinking like that, if that is the case, then I'd had ultimately selfish, self-centered, narcissistic reasons for having a baby, and it hadn't been about Blue at all but my own selfish desire, this _conceit_, this _arrogance_, this stupid need to validate my own existence, another way for me to have that affirmation that I mattered, that I had some worth and value as a woman, as a wife, as a human being.

In which case, then this is all unfair to Blue and I shouldn't have brought her here in this world for my own selfish reasons so I can feel better about myself. Because I've brought her here now, in this world, and she's ill-equipped to deal with it and it's all my fault. She can't hear. She can't speak. She can't express herself. And she's angry because of this. And it's all my fault. All my fault.

I'm being punished, aren't I?

But I'm being punished through Blue, for this self-same conceit and arrogance and selfishness and self-centeredness and narcissism.

So I guess San is right. I _have_ made this all about myself.

I know I've made this all about myself again and I know self-pity gets me nowhere but god, every time I look at Blue I feel so, so guilty, because she doesn't deserve any of this and I wish I could make it all better, but I can't. Because Blue will never know the beauty of sound and music and harmonies and melodies and rhythm and voices and the power of it all and how it all can come together and make someone feel better, or express one's feelings, or even change the world. She'll never know the power of Barbara or Broadway or Puccini or the crash of the waves against the beach or the sound of seagulls flying against a gloomy sky, or the sound of applause or the many other things I had taken for granted but that Blue will never get to hear…

* * *

Dear _,

So Blue and Suzie aren't the only thing that's causing such a strain between me and San.

I know this whole thing with Blue has been taking its toll on the family and I thought maybe a vacation would do the trick - time off from real life, or something.

So I took some brochures, browsed some websites, printed out some stuff, and had shown them to San when she had been home, in her office, working and she'd looked at the papers and then at me, not quite comprehending what I had just shown her before she kind of gets really irritated and throws all the papers down on the table.

It wasn't like I'd actually gone out and bought the tickets already and made reservations. And it wasn't like it was a trip to Switzerland or some such place or something. It was just a trip to Florida, maybe Hawaii, San Francisco, but she'd immediately gotten irritated and had said, "What is this shit, Rach?"

"I just thought…"

"These are expensive, Rach…"

"I'm sorry…I thought maybe we could take some time away or something from all this…"

"Rach, I don't think we can afford this right now…"

"What do you mean? I think we can… I mean, I know this is technically a one-income family at the moment, but I do have some money stashed away and…"

"We can't afford this, Rach. We can't just be spending money like this…not when we don't know what else Blue needs…and Suzie's going to college soon and…"

"San, Suzie has that college fund and if she plays her cards right, she might actually get a free ride to college and Blue is fine…I think we…"

"That's the thing isn't it…sometimes you don't _think_," San snaps at me and it takes me so much by surprise I have no ready reply for her. It has been awhile since San has snapped at me like she has last night and I stand there, not knowing what to say as she says, "Do you get what I'm trying to say here, Rach? I don't have the _time_ for this. We can't do this thing now… We…just can't…I'm sorry…"

And then she shuts down and I don't know what to say and I don't want to push it so I leave her alone, feeling saddened by what's going on with us but wanting, more than anything to make everything better with her, with us.

* * *

Dear _,

So San's mom calls.

I know right from the get-go she wants to ask how Blue and I are doing because there's no way San hasn't already told her what the doctor has said about Blue.

And it starts out awkwardly enough, with San's mom asking me how we are, what we have been up to and so on and so forth before her mom brings out the big guns and starts to ask, "How's Blue? How are you, really?"

I sigh. I don't really know how to answer that. So I go for, "We're fine, Mom. It's a bit tough but, we're okay."

Even as I say it, I feel like the words seem so empty somehow but San's mom doesn't say anything and we continue to speak about mundane things and in the end, she says, "Well, I've got to go, your father and I are hatching yet another scheme to make Carlos leave the nest."

"My father?" I ask, confused.

"Oh, sorry, I mean, Santana's father," she says, "But your family now, so your father, too."

I smile. "Okay. You guys take care, say hi to the guys for me."

"Alright, _mija_, take care," San's Mom says now.

I don't know why, but that call did make me feel a bit better.

* * *

Dear _,

So, Kurt calls me.

At first he apologizes for being so busy, but he asks if I am okay and would I like to go out with him sometime? Or visit me and bake cookies and stuff? Since San had instituted a mandatory call or text first before coming to the house, Kurt has made a habit of doing so.

"I'm sorry I haven't been there for you the past few months, but I'm here now, and are you busy? Can I come over with cookies? Would you like some cookies? Pristinely glazed donuts? A half-masticated cow?"

"A half-masticated cow?!" I ask. "Gross, Kurt."

"Okay. It's a date," Kurt says now. He then moves away from the phone and shouts, "Dave, honey, Rachel said yes, we're going to Brooklyn!"

I hear Dave's muffled "Yeah, okay" in the background and Kurt says, "Okay, see you soon!"

* * *

Dear _,

I received a package today.

I wonder who it's from. I rarely receive packages, but I check where it's from and the address says California and I squint at the bad scrawled handwriting and it says, "Sam Evans" and I realize it's from Sam and as I open it, I wonder what he'd sent me. But as I unwrap the package, I see chocolates, Belgian chocolates (Sam's post-it note, attached to the chocolates, says they are the best in the world) and other different kinds of chocolate, in fancy boxes, beneath the Belgian ones above it. Another note says, "Endorphins, dude, endorphins!" and a smiley face on it).

Later, Sam calls me and excitedly asks me if I got the package and when I say I did and start to thank him, he immediately launches into a repeat on the health benefits of chocolate as I roll my eyes.

"_Anyway_," I interrupt, when I get a word in edge-wise as he launches into an excited ramble on the new "The Crow" remake, how the new Tom Cruise sci-fi movie sucked, how excited he is for the "Ender's Game" movie and how, for some strange reason, he's addicted to reading "50 Shades of Grey"? "Thanks for the chocolates, Sam, I really appreciate it."

"So, Rachel, have you heard about this guy, John Edensor Littlewood? There's this law named after him called Littlewood Law?" Sam asks.

I sigh. There's no shutting Sam up.

"Well, anyway, Littlewood's Law kind of mixes math with religion and it's so cool? And he postulates that miracles happen to everyone about once every thirty-five days," Sam says, earnestly. "He defines a miracle as an event that has a one in a million chance of happening, but it would mean being alert at least eight hours in a day or so."

"Okay," I say, not sure where he is going with this.

"So, that being said, I think…life can seem shitty now, but…don't forget to count your blessings, Rachel," Sam says, "And look out for your miracles. They're probably happening even as we speak. I know you at least have one miracle in diapers at the moment. Hang in there, okay?"

Despite myself, I smile. I think I could hug this dorky, geeky guy right now. Instead, I clear my throat and say, "Thanks, Sam. Really."

"No problem, dude. Call you soon!"

* * *

Dear _,

Quinn called me today, asking if Blue and I are okay. Quinn is kind of not that good with sugar-coated encouraging words, but as she starts to speak about Beth (Beth! I'd forgotten about her!) and Aidan, I realize San's probably confided in her (of course she did). She kind of launches into how tough it was for her too when she'd given birth to Beth and then to Aidan and how she knows what I am going through isn't the same as what she has gone through but that she can understand the pain a bit but that things do get better, "even if they have to get worse to get better first".

I'm writing this here now because this is probably the most surprising, maybe even surreal thing that I've ever heard of (next to San and Quinn admitting that they made me win Prom Queen senior year in high school because, as Quinn joked, "Santana was hoping she could get into your pants that way, but Finn beat her to it, so!"), because it's one of those times when Quinn is actually making one of those rare _efforts_ to make her best friend's wife feel better, and she says, "I know whatever I say is not going to make you feel any better, and I know I probably can't imagine what you and Blue and Santana are going through, but…things work out in the end, okay? And I know you've probably heard this a lot of times, but it's going to be fine, okay?"

When, through the threat of choking on words, I manage to say, "Thank you", she says, in true Quinn fashion, "Don't mention it. To anyone. _Ever._"

So, yes, weirdest thing ever.

* * *

Dear _,

I rest my case.

It's Shelby calling, so randomly, that's actually the most surprising thing that I've ever experienced. I don't even know how she got our number.

She has this weird thing of always randomly popping up in my life, like when I was in high school and when I was in NYADA. And she has this weird thing of disappearing as quickly as well.

She hadn't known I'd gotten married, or that I have a child now, but she just wanted to say hi to me and ask me how I was doing. It was so surreal and random but also quite interesting. She'd asked me if we could have coffee sometime and I said sure and so she tells me, there's this coffee shop over on Broadway (because of course it's on Broadway) she likes that serves the best coffee that's ever been made and she likes to hang out at this place sometimes, when she's in New York and she gives me the address and I know the place and she says she hangs out at that place sometimes, on weekends and before I could wonder what she is doing hanging out at that place she's already saying goodbye, so.

* * *

Dear _,

Daddy H. called me today, asking me how San, Suzie, Blue and I are doing. Daddy H. likes to call me sometimes, especially since Blue was born, and for some strange reason he likes to hear about things like Blue's firsts and then starts telling me about _my_ firsts, the first word I ever said, the first time I started walking, the first time I started dancing, the first time I started to eat solid food, the first time I stopped drinking milk, that time I successfully potty-trained, the first time I chucked my diaper out, the first time I went to school, my first crush, my first boyfriend (ugh, that was Finn), all the way to my first prom and my first audition and my everything…I'm surprised he hadn't brought up the first girl I'd ever been with (granted that was after high school and during NYADA and right before Broadway) and all that.

I sit and listen to him on the phone and I feel a vague pain because now I'm thinking about Blue but Daddy H. must have realized I've fallen silent, because he stops and says, "Are you okay, honey?"

I nod absently even though I know he can't see me and he says, "Uh, I know you might be busy now, and things aren't what you quite expected them…and uh, maybe you're having some…difficulties now…I remember when you first came to our lives we had a lot of sleepless nights and we were tired all the time…and uh, we worried all the time about you whenever you coughed or wheezed or something…but it got better and…whatever you're going through right now…uh, we've taken the liberty of googling some information about Blue's condition and we'd be more than happy to share it with you and if you need help or anything…just…know we're here for you, okay? If you need anything…or uh, whatever…I mean we could even come visit you guys if you want…"

I smile, and I think I remember telling my dad how much I love him and I can practically see him smiling all the way from his Lima living room and he reminds me why he's my favorite Berry dad and San's, too. San won't say it, or even admit it, but I know she likes Daddy H. as much I do.

I'm kind of glad Daddy called.

* * *

Dear _,

Kurt and Dave came with cookies today and we all hung out in the living room just letting Blue play in the play pen.

I had never been so glad than at that moment when I see both of them on our front door.

We kind of just spend the day hanging out in the living room, with Blue, and Dave surprises me not only by being good with kids, but by actually knowing sign language, and he talks to Blue in sign language and makes faces and Blue smiles at him as he does "peak-a-boo" (nothing is more hilarious and strange than a big, grown man doing "peak-a-boo" to a tiny baby) and later, Sam texts me and we Skype with him and as Sam jokes about (well, we hope he's only joking) getting into politics and wanting to run for office and requiring states to have not only state flowers and state animals and stuff, but also state microorganisms ("What the hell, Sam?" Kurt asks, as Dave laughs), such as _s__accharomyces cerevisiae_ (yeast!),_ staphylococcus aureus_ (some kind of bacteria), _methanobrevibacter smiithi_ (the microorganism that causes bad breath) (yes, he made me write them down) and I think to myself, gross but at the same time, I'm just glad that there are friends with me, now.

* * *

Dear _,

So I got a call from the New York Academy of Ballet today.

It had been about Suzie.

I hadn't even realized it had been Suzie's audition until I get the call and I wonder at first what it is all about and I think nothing of it as I hold Blue against my hip and cradle the phone against my left ear.

And then this man, who sounds like he is a cross between a British guy with a stuffy nose and a pretentious New England snob, asks me at first if I am Susanna Marie Pierce Lopez's mother. I automatically, mentally think, "No, I'm not, but I've raised her as my own for the past few years, so yes, dammit, I am her mother!" as Blue starts to squirm and grunt and starts to flail her arms around like she does, and I impatiently answer yes, I am and he says, laboriously and very slowly, in not so many words, that something has happened to Suzie.

* * *

Dear _,

It had been nothing serious.

Suzie kind of just passed out from exhaustion in the middle of her audition piece for the school.

She'd been working and studying and practicing so hard she'd been skipping meals and getting only a few hours of sleep every night (and sometimes no sleep at all) and she'd fainted on the stage in the middle of a Black Swan routine she'd practiced rigidly for for the past few months.

She'd been at the clinic when I'd come to get her and she had been more upset that she hadn't finished the routine and had, more likely than not, failed to enter the New York Academy of Ballet and had apologized profusely to me for letting me down, rather than concerned that the doctor had said she was more likely anemic and is developing the first signs of ulcer and has skipped so many meals she's lost so much weight. I look at her and realize how much weight she's lost and I feel so ashamed I hadn't noticed it before and I feel like a bad mother.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," she had said over and over again on our way home and I'd tried, repeatedly, to tell her, it was okay, that I'm just glad she's alright because truthfully, when that stuck-up NYAB man had called to say something had happened to her, I had feared the worst. But except for a sprained ankle and a painful body, she seems okay. She promises she will try again, anyway there's always next year.

* * *

Dear _,

Later, I tell San about what happened to Suzie and of course, it escalates into an argument, in which she says I spend too much time agonizing about Blue's condition when Blue's just fine and healthy and just hearing-impaired and I just need to get over it and I do have another daughter I need to take care of, too and that just really makes me so angry because last time I checked this was a two-parent household and the responsibility for raising both children doesn't just fall on one parent and I'm not just the stupid stay-at-home housewife/mom responsible for raising the children and the one to blame for when things go awry and I tell her as much. That made her angry, too and she says, "No one forced you to have kids, Rachel. This is part of being a parent. If you're going to whine so much about how difficult it is to raise a family then you shouldn't have done it in the first place!" I don't know why, but the word vomit comes out before I can stop them and I say, "Maybe I shouldn't have!" San looks stunned for a moment, like she's been slapped and she stands there, in our bedroom, not knowing what to say, and I see her body tense up, her chest rising up and down, in anger, and I see her hands close into tight fists and she doesn't seem to know where to put them and for a second I think she might hit me and I can see her trying to control herself. For what seems like forever, we stand there, San and I, just looking at each other like two, trapped, caged, hungry, angry animals, wondering what to do next. Never have I felt how different and how alike we really are than at that moment, like so many moments in the past, because the arguing between us can be really intense but there's no one else who's stood up to me quite like San has and no one's stood up to San quite like I have and I guess in some ways, part of that enduring attraction we have for each other is because of that, that we love each other enough to be able to say these things to each other and still come out of it stronger and still love each other. Except I think maybe these one too many arguments we have might eventually make or break our relationship and I grow afraid. I'm sometimes afraid this thing with Blue could be the one thing that's going to tear us apart and there's no way I can live with that.

But then San breaks eye contact, and I see her shoulders slump in surrender and she suddenly looks weary, like she has no more fight left and San, being San, stalks off, without another word, because she knows as well as I, that whenever our arguments get too much, she is almost always the one who backs down, who walks away, because she never wants to say anything that she'll regret later on, and she never wants to hurt me, because we both know she's much more than capable of saying hurtful things than anyone can ever hope to imagine, and so she walks away from me and I let her. As she slams the door and runs down the stairs and drives off down the street in the car, like she has done so many times in the past, I sigh and worry and get nervous because even though I know she'll come back, she always does, there's still that tiny possibility that she may have had it with my drama and all the other stuff that come with me, with having a family and she will never come back and that just freaks me out because I love her and I know she loves me and we shouldn't be fighting over this. The moment I realize that, I wish she'd come back because I can't raise Blue and Suzie alone and because I love her and I need her and San has always been the only one I've ever needed, the only one I've ever wanted to be with and it's stupid and girlish and so high school it makes me just cringe but it's true. All of it is true. Because despite everything that we've been through, despite how hard it's been sometimes, there's nobody else I'd go through things all over again except San, because I know San will always be there for me, like I've always been there for her, and that's as certain and as right as rain.

And to top it all off, she's gone off without having dinner and I think she's forgotten her coat and it's cold outside and I worry she's going to get drunk or something and she's going to drink and drive and then I find myself worrying and getting a bit irritated and hoping she wouldn't be so stupid as to do that.

And I lie there in the dark, thinking about where San is, and hoping she's okay and wanting her back now, in my arms.

And I think to myself, I'm a horrible wife. I'm driving my wife away and it's all my fault because I'm a big drama queen and being a bitch about this.

And then I think to myself, I'm a horrible mom, too. I can't even take care of Suzie. I can't take care of Blue. God, I can't even make the child _speak_. That's how horrible I am.

And that keeps me awake for the rest of the night as I think and think and agonize and start listing what makes me a horrible wife and a horrible mom and I start panicking and then I start taking deep breaths because I feel the onset of a panic attack coming on and I miss San because she always knows how to calm me down and what would I do without her and I'd be lost without her and I was a jerk and…

But finally, at three AM, I hear the front door downstairs open and close, hear someone's footsteps down the hallway, up the stairs, down the hall, where Suzie and Blue sleep, before the footsteps approach our door and the door opens and closes and there's San, in the dark, all quiet and just…here…and she climbs into bed, not saying anything, and takes me in her arms and she mumbles a "Sorry" and after, "I love you" into my neck and there is nothing else to be said, and I'm just so glad that San is back. And San holds me, and I hold her, because sometimes, we don't really need words, words sometimes get in the way, and there'll be time enough for that in the morning anyway and we fall asleep, knowing whatever happens we'll still have tomorrow.

* * *

Dear _,

So Suzie, Blue and I go for groceries and I don't know how it happens, but while we're at the shop, Blue sees the toys at the toy section and her eyes light up and she starts to point and I wonder what she's pointing at and as Suzie and I wheel the cart towards the toy section, Blue has this big smile on her face as she tries to stand up off the cart and grab one of those shiny robot toys that Suzie tells me are Gundam robots. I don't know what they are and what the point is and what they're _for_, although I'm sure Sam will probably give me a very comprehensive explanation for them, but they look intricately made and colorful and as I get one for Blue, Blue spots a large yellow toy truck near the Gundam robots and grabs one of those as well and Suzie grins at Blue and then at me, and she says, "I think this one might grow up to be a lesbian, Mom. A big one. A big _butch_ one," and she starts to laugh as Blue looks up at her and says, "Zie-Zie" as I tell Suzie, "Very funny, Suzie," and then Blue says it again, with her hands and with her voice, "Zie-Zie" as I roll my eyes at Suzie.

I put the robot and toy truck into the cart and Suzie tells Blue, "Just remember, kiddo, I'm the smart, pretty one. You're the one who's special…on the inside."

"Zie-zie _bad_," Blue says now and I say, "See, Blue says you are _bad_."

"No, I'm not," Suzie says, laughing.

And then Suzie and I both stop and look at Blue, who is busy playing with the packaging of the toy truck to notice us, but when she notices us staring at her, she looks up at me and says, "_Ma-ma_" and Suzie and I just…stare at Blue.

"_Ma-ma_?" Blue says uncertainly now and my heart stops beating and I think I don't breathe for a few seconds and then my heart starts beating again and I say, in disbelief, "Blue, what did you say?"

"_Ma-ma sad?_" Blue asks again, looking up at me and in instant Blue is in my arms and I am laughing and crying and Suzie stands there looking like she's about to cry herself and Blue is squirming and trying to get out of my hands and Blue says, "Ma-ma, let _go_. Let _go_. Toy, _toy_!"

When I let Blue go and she sits in the cart and starts to play with her toys, I look at Suzie, but Suzie is already distracted, all thoughts of failing her audition and of being there for when Blue's first words are gone from her mind as she stares at a woman down the aisle with a pretty impressive pair of breasts that look almost ready to pop out of her barely there blouse and I nudge Suzie once, twice, before I get her attention and I say, "Suzie, stop staring, it's not polite."

Suzie looks at me with a sheepish look on her face and she whispers, "Sorry, Mom. But have you seen that rack? Those boobs are huge! Boobs, Mom, _boobs_!"

Blue looks up at about the same time, and she says, "Boobs, _Ma-ma_, boobs!" and starts to laugh and a middle-aged housewife passes by with her cart and overhears my toddler saying boobs and I blush so furiously I shake my head and push the cart away and pull Suzie away from the housewife as she stares at us, appalled.

"Suzie!" I say, "Don't teach your little sister words like that!"

Suzie laughs. "Sorry, Mom!" Then she looks at Blue and says, "Hey, Blue!" Blue looks up and Suzie says, "Say this with me now, Blue, _pussy!_"

"_Pussy_!" Blue shouts as the same middle-aged housewife passes by, yet _again_, and Suzie grins innocently at the housewife as the housewife burns a bit red, and rolls her cart away as I continue to burn a bright red, too.

"Susanna Marie Pierce _Lopez_," I say to Suzie and a group of teenaged kids pass by and hear me saying to her and they snicker and Suzie starts to blush and whines, "_Mooom_!"

"Oh, if you don't stop teaching your little sister naughty words I am going to your school and _embarrass_ you in front of your friends," I say. Suzie looks at me in horror as I say, "Maybe I'll even chaperone you in one of your dates, how's that?!"

Suzie looks at me, mortified, as she says, "You _wouldn't!"_

"Oh, I _would_, and I_ will_," I say, with a triumphant smile on my face.

"Oh, god, you're going to start talking about how I was when I was a kid, aren't you?" Suzie says now, "You'd bring out my baby pictures and start cooing all over them and you'll embarrass me and I will have no friends and I will have no social life whatsoever and my life is _over_!"

I roll my eyes. "Don't be such a drama queen, Suzie."

Suzie only grins as she puts an arm around me and gives me a squeeze. "Love you, Mom!"

And Blue looks up at us and she says, "_Wuv_ you, _Ma-ma_!"

"Aw, Blue Bear, now that you can talk, we are _so_ going to have so much fun together," Suzie tells Blue as she grins. "We can paint our nails together, braid our hair together, give the other kids patriotic wedgies when they make fun of your voice, make incredulous snowmen together…"

And I am so happy that I even buy Blue the blue ball (to add to her endless collection of balls) she points out to me and we all go home and Blue continues to say one-syllable or two-syllable words and I think it's one of the best days of my life.

Sam is right.

Miracles do happen.

Note to self: Must ask Suzie what an incredulous snowman is. What does that even mean?

* * *

Dear _,

When Suzie, Blue and I are at home eating ice cream in the kitchen, Blue in a chair playing with her toys and Suzie eating her ice cream, Suzie looks at me and grins and says, "So I guess the best way to shut Blue up is buying her robots and toy trucks, huh?"

I smile at her. "You don't do robots and toy trucks?"

Suzie shakes her head. "Nah. I like my anatomically correct Barbie dolls." Then she stops, realizes something and says, "Oh, crap, I should've known I was gay right from the get-go."

"_Cwap!_" Blue screams.

"_Suzie_, stop it," I say wearily.

"Sorry, sorry," Suzie says and Blue mimics her, saying, "_Sowee, sowee_."

"And Mom, I bet if you stop reading her those fairy tales and start reading her something cooler, like, you know, about part-time Indians, or about gay penguins or something, I think she'll enjoy bed time even more," Suzie says now.

"_Bed time, no!_" Blue says now.

I roll my eyes. Of course Blue learns the all-important "No" as well.

As Blue is busy playing with her toys, I reach out and run a hand on Suzie's hair and ask, "Are you growing your hair?"

Suzie shakes her head. "Nope. I really should cut it."

"Yes, it's growing really long, now," I comment. "You still have money?"

She flips her head to get the long bangs out of her face and proudly nods her head and I smile. We sit in silence for a few moments before I ask, "What are you going to do now?"

She shrugs, "I dunno, Mom. Call Raj or something maybe."

"No, I mean, about college? Are you going to audition again for that school?"

Suzie is silent. After a few minutes, she answers. "I don't know, Mom. Maybe. But…can I tell you something?"

I look at her. "What?"

"Please _promise_ you won't get mad first."

I get a bit nervous. I don't know what she will say, but if she confides something to me that doesn't involve missing her period, being pregnant, skipping college altogether, or having been charged with assault or arrested for DUI, or drug possession I think I have done my job. I find myself saying, please let it be okay.

When I don't answer, she looks at me in exasperation and says, "_Mooom_."

I look at her, incredulous, "What?"

"You're getting that _look_."

"What look?" I ask.

"That look you always get when you think I'm in trouble or when I'm about to say something that's going to give you a heart attack."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah you are, Mom, don't deny it," Suzie says, matter-of-factly. "You're kind of like an open book, Mom. I can always guess what's going on with you. Like when you think nobody realizes that whenever you cook something extra special, we know something's up."

"That is _so_ not true," I begin to deny but then Suzie adds, "And usually there's going to be some sexy times involved between you and Mom and stuff…"

I look at her and say, "Gross, Suzie. Seriously."

Suzie shrugs. "I'm just saying, Mom."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. What are you supposed to say?"

She looks at me. "Promise you won't get mad?"

I nod.

"Well," and here she takes a deep breath, "I…kind of applied to other universities. Not just dance schools."

I am confused at first. "What universities?"

"Um, NYU, SUNY, Penn State, Washington State… some other colleges…like in Boston…"

"Harvard?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Nope, not Harvard, Mom. I get that Harvard is awesome and stuff, and I guess I have the GPA for that, but…I don't know… Harvard's not my thing."

I nod. "One of the top prestigious universities in the country is _not_ your thing? The richest ten percent of the world come from Harvard." I ask. Suzie grins and nods. I say, "Okay. You've applied to other colleges?" It doesn't escape me that most of the colleges she's applied to is near New York. "How about Berkeley? MIT? Or any of the other colleges in the east coast?"

She smiles and shakes her head. "Nah. I prefer it here. I mean, Cali's cool, but apart from Kate, there's nothing else there for me."

"It could be quite the experience."

She smiles again. "Yeah, but I want to be near you guys."

I don't know why but that makes me smile as she squirms, uncomfortable, as I look at her. So she says, mumbles, really, a bit embarrassedly, "I figure maybe you might need some help with Blue or something, and I want to come visit you guys whenever I can…and…"

"Aaww, honey, I don't think it's going to help your street cred that you are _way_ too attached to your mothers," I tease her.

"_Mom_!" Suzie says, blushing. "There is nothing wrong with being attached to your Moms…Mom said family is important. Mommy Britt said that, too. And I don't care what people say, you're my Mom and I want to keep in touch with you and to hell what the cool kids, say."

I laugh. "You are such a dork."

Suzie makes to protest but she hangs her head and says, in a resigned voice, "I know."

"So you _don't_ want to go to dance school?" I ask her now.

She shrugs. "I don't know, Mom. But I figured maybe I should consider other options, too? In case I don't get in? And I don't know if dance is what I want to keep doing forever. And you guys keep saying education is important anyway, so. At least if I wake up one day and realize I don't want to dance anymore, I have a back-up plan. You always told me to have back-up plans and stuff."

I smile. "That I did. That I did."

After a silence, Suzie looks at me and asks, earnestly, "So, you're not mad, Mom?"

I shake my head. "Of course not, honey. Why would I be? I'm just happy you're still choosing to go to college. Actually, I'm just glad you're not pregnant at sixteen or dropping out, or addicted to drugs, or arrested for assault or DUI or seeing your mugshot on social networking sites or something."

Suzie rolls her eyes. "Like you or Mom would actually let me get away with that! If I screw up, I bet I'm never going to hear the end of it!"

I laugh. "As long as you know what's going to happen if you screw up, we're good. And just so you know, college isn't like one big party that movies and television shows always paint it to be. Mostly it's just approximately four long years of your life studying and making good grades and squeezing in some decent extracurricular activities in the process."

Suzie grins. "So, what, no frat parties and all the beer and weed you want and stuff like that?"

I smile, "There are, but you have to take it easy with those things. Bad things can go down on those things, you know. I know it might sound fun to wake up with someone you don't even remember being with the night before, but also…unprotected sex, unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases that never really go away. Like herpes."

Suzie nods and makes a face and gets her spoon and starts spooning ice cream into her mouth again and she says, talking with her mouth full, "_Gross_, Mom."

"Sorry," I say, smiling.

"_Gwoss_, Zi-zie!" Blue says now, with obvious delight on her face.

"Oh, my god, Mom, make her shut _up_!" Suzie tells me now.

"_Shu-up!_" Blue shouts now.

I only laugh.

When we have all finished eating our ice cream, and we move to the living room, where we put Blue in her play pen and we sort of just watch her as Suzie turns on the television, to Disney Channel with Suzie muttering that we should get the really cool pay-per-view channels where she can watch Game of Thrones and True Blood uncut and I roll my eyes.

Halfway through a television show we are both only half-watching, Suzie suddenly says, so softly, I barely hear it, "It's going to be okay, Mom."

I look at her then, not comprehending, but her face is on the television and now she turns and she says it again, a bit louder this time, with an earnestness on her face, "It's going to be okay, Mom." She says, "I know, Mom, this is clichéd and stuff, but Mommy Britt always said, things happen for a reason. And that's what she said to me when we were at the hospital and she always told me, things always work out for the best. And that things will be alright, and that I had nothing to fear and that all I ever needed to be was _not _be all that I can be, but just continue to be more of what I am."

I swallow the lump slowly growing in my throat as she says, "I think Mommy Britt would have said you're doing a fine job, Mom. She would have said just continue to be more of who you are 'cause you're doing a good job just being you, Mom. I think she would have been happy about how you raised me. Mommy Britt used to say, I have to be like water, whenever change comes. Change, she says, is the only thing that's constant in the world and to make it in the world, I had to be like water, because water just flows and flows and flows and there is nothing in the world that water cannot overcome, she says, yet its essential nature is to yield and that I should always just go with the flow, because the flow will always, always know where to go."

I feel the tears well up in my eyes as she says this and she stops, falls silent and I say, through the tears threatening to spill from my eyes, "Where…where…how did you even…how do you even remember all of that?"

Suzie only smiles. "Mommy left me, like, lots of videos, and photos and pdf files and stuff in flash drives and stuff, but she also kind of left me books, like Ray Bradbury's 'Dandelion Wine' and Dr. Seuss' 'The Lorax' and 'Horton Hears a Who' and 'Green Eggs and Ham' that story about two gay penguins and their kid and that story about a part-time Indian and stuff and she left me this book by this guy, Stuart Avery Gold, called 'Ping: A Frog In Search of a New Pond'. She said she thought it was about fairy tales and kissing frogs that turn into princes, but as it turns out, the frog stays a frog and learns something along the way."

I smile.

"And I know you probably don't love me as much as Blue and I understand that but…it's going to be okay, okay?" Suzie continues.

"What are you talking about?" I demand now, as I reach for her and pull her towards me and I hold her shoulder. "I love you as much as I love Blue, okay? Never ever think otherwise."

Suzie grins. "Okay. But just so you know, even if you do love Blue more, it's okay. She needs more tender loving care and attention, so. I love her anyway."

I try to say something but I start to choke but I manage to say, "How'd you get to be so smart?" before I start to cry and Suzie scoots over and starts to hug me and she says, "Oh, Mom, please don't cry. Please don't cry. It's going to be okay, okay?"

And we sit there and we have that good cry I'd been wanting to have for so long.

And it feels like something has finally has been opened, unleashed, and I feel it, my self emptying, all the pain and frustration and disappointment and Suzie just holds me and I cry on her shoulder and I feel better.

* * *

Dear _,

San found out today that Blue can already speak.

She found out during dinner.

Nobody was speaking during dinner. Suzie was busily eating her mashed potatoes and broccoli and asparagus and chicken drumsticks and Blue had been picking at her dinner, but then San, who'd come home earlier and had taken a shower before coming down for dinner, had been wearing a low tank top that showed her "twins" as she likes to call them (insert eye roll here. Sometimes, she calls them her very own "Golden Globes") and shorts and as she takes a seat at the table and I push her plate towards her and a glass of water, Blue puts down her spoon and screams, delightedly, at San, "Mommy! _Boobs!_"

San takes this in stride as she digs into her mashed potatoes and casually comments, with a subtle eye roll, "Of course the first word Blue learns is _'boobs'_. I bet this one is going to grow up gay, too."

Suzie grins. "Yeah. This is really a hot bed of...gayness and stuff."

"Pussy!" Blue screams now and San drops her fork and says, "Seriously, the second word she learns is _pussy?_ Honestly, babe, I thought you'd at least teach her something else like…the lyrics to some Barbra Streisand song or something…I expected her first word to be like, 'Barbra' or something…"

"Mommy!" Blue says now, trying to get San's attention.

"Mom," Suzie says, looking at San, who doesn't seem to be paying attention to Blue.

"Honey," I say as Blue grabs her spoon and starts to pound on her chair.

"Mommy, Mommy, _Mommy!_" Blue says now.

"Alright, alright, Blue, hold your horses, _sheesh_," San says as she gets up to try to lift Blue off of her chair, but then she stops, looks confused, sits back down on her chair, a confused look on her face. Meanwhile, Suzie's grin grows bigger as she looks at San with delight and San looks even more confused as Blue alternately chanting "Mommy", "boobs" and "pussy" in as quick a succession as she can. San is silent for what seems like forever, before she says, "Blue can speak?"

Suzie and I both nod at San.

San is silent again, taking this in, before she says, "And of all the words she has to learn first, the first words she learns are _'boobs'_ and _'pussy'_?"

Suzie and I look at each other before I point a finger at Suzie and say, "Her fault."

"Mom!" Suzie whines now as San starts to shake her head. A smile slowly spreads on San's face and as Suzie and I start to argue, and Blue keeps on shouting "boobs" and "pussy" at us, San starts to laugh, really laugh this kind of laugh I haven't heard from her in a while and as she does so, Blue follows suit and starts to giggle and Suzie starts laughing too and before I know it, I'm laughing, as well, tentatively at first, but then I give in to the laughter and there we were, one family laughing over dinner and Blue lifts her hands up to San and San, still laughing, gets up and lifts Blue out of her chair and Blue automatically wraps her arms around San and she says, "_Wuv you_, Mommy."

And San's laughter dies and I see her look change and she holds on to Blue more tightly as she says, gently, into Blue's hair, "I love you, too, Blue."

And for the second time, I feel the tears well up as I watch San and Blue hold on to each other in the kitchen.

* * *

Dear _,

San and I made love tonight.

I don't know how it happened.

Well, I kind of know _how_ it happened but…you know what I mean…

And I know it shouldn't be a big deal but we kind of haven't been having that much sex since Blue was born, so it _is_ kind of a big deal.

I was taking a quick shower after dinner, washing away whatever sticky thing Blue has put on my person and I started hearing San's voice, asking me where her favorite blouse is, or where her favorite suit is and where I'd put her favorite shoes and each time, I'd shout, over the sound of the shower, where it is and as I continue to shower, I hear a voice behind me that startles me at first and it's San, smiling and naked, asking me if she could join me, and she steps into the shower and starts to kiss me and it's been so long and the shower turns into a long one…

And later we move it into the bedroom and we make love like we've never made love before and I have nothing else to say except…I've missed it, and I've missed her and I've missed our lovemaking and I've missed her lips on mine and her lips on my skin and her being inside me.

Later, spent and flush against the warm afterglow of lovemaking, we start talking, finally, about everything, Blue, and Suzie and the problems we've been having about Blue and she apologizes for not being there for me as much as she should have and she tells me she won't promise anything, because promises are made to be broken, but that she will try, as much as possible to be there for me, for Blue, for Suzie and I apologize as well and though the future seems uncertain, and though we've had our ups and downs and it's been hard, knowing that at the end of the day, San will be there for me, for us, no matter what happens, makes it all the better.

And before we drift off to sleep, San tells me, "So, as you know, Sam and I really love our superhero comic books and movies, and we used to watch 'Watchmen' on weekends, when he'd come to hang out at home, and he gave me a copy of the comic book for my birthday or graduation gift or something, I forget which and anyway, we'd watch it over and over and I really loved that movie and I think Dr. Manhattan is my favorite, because he says one of my favorite lines to this other character, Laurie, about Laurie's mother loving a man she has every reason to hate and from that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, only one of them, Laurie, emerged. And he says, 'To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to gold!'."

And in the darkness, San looks at me and says, "Baby, there's a reason for everything, and I think in that chaos of improbability at work there, of all the possible permutations that could ever happen, of the thousand, million children competing to be formed and born, only Blue and only Blue emerges. And I think that's kind of really amazing and like Dr. Manhattan said, that's like turning air to gold! That makes Blue amazingly unique and there's no other person like her, like there's never going to be anyone like her, like there's no other person as unique as you and you're an amazing wife and mom and everything and we're going to be okay."

I write this down now, lest I forget what she said. Even now, I don't think I got it right, only the gist of it, and I remember telling San, just before I kiss her and make love to her, how much of a dork and a geek she is (she still insists, until now, that she isn't, but she really is) but I wanted to remember it, because it just reminds me why I love her so much and why she's the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Because of moments like these. Because of the things she sometimes tells me. Because of how special she sometimes makes me feel. Because of how she always knows what to tell me at the right moment. Because I know how much she loves me. Because she knows how much I love her, too.

Life can sometimes be hard. And change is the only thing that's permanent. But as they say, things happen for a reason, things fall into place, things will get better, although sometimes they get worse before they get any better, and things work out in the end. I don't know about all that, but I at least need to believe that things will get better, because if I don't…then what's going to happen?

Things though seem to be looking up.

P.S. And yes, San sometimes speaks like a total geek sometimes. You'd be surprised how much of a geek she can be in the privacy of our own home. Especially since outside, she kind of exudes this bad ass persona that sometimes includes thinly-veiled insults, threats and mild forms of physical assault.

* * *

Dear _,

San came home late last night, like she almost always does these days. She smells a bit of alcohol, but she doesn't seem even remotely drunk or even tipsy, although she seems a bit more relaxed than she has been the past few days.

I watch her in the darkness, groggy and sleep-deprived that I am, looking at her as she strips to her tank top and short shorts, her favorite sleepwear really, and she climbs into the bed and wraps her around me from behind, and mumbles, "Hey, baby, sorry I'm late."

Even though I know she's not drunk, I do say it anyway, "Are you drunk?"

I can feel her shake her head, and she says, "No" and I turn around, pull myself away from her and say, "You are."

"No, I'm not," she insists, and I just glare at her and she says, "Okay, okay, I had a couple of vodka tonics…maybe some Long Island Iced Tea, a Manhattan, possibly a margarita, not sure, but I think that's it."

"Did you eat dinner at least?" I demand to know.

She scrunches up her nose. "Do peanuts on the bar counter count?"

I roll my eyes. "Eeww. Do you know how many people have _touched_ those peanuts? Gross. You want me to heat something up for you?"

She considers this for a moment before she says, "Maybe later." She looks like she's about to say something, so I raise my eyebrows and wait, but when she doesn't say anything for a few seconds, I lie back down on the bed and start to pull the blanket up to my chest when she puts her hand on my shoulder and says, "We…need to talk."

I do not miss the seriousness in her tone so I turn and look at her. Despite having had drinks, she doesn't seem in the least drunk, looks almost sober, in fact, and I wait for her to speak and she seems to hesitate, as she sits there, cross-legged, in front of me. Something suddenly dawns on me as I look at her because you can't live with the same person for more than eight years and _not_ be attuned to their moods so I say, softly, "San, what's wrong?"

And San looks at me, blinks once, twice, unsure, and I could almost sense the internal struggle going on within her, before she says, softly, "I'm sorry I got a bit drunk tonight. But it seemed like the best way to tell you, and I'm sorry I haven't been there for you, I know it's been tough for you and I just want you to know I love you, I love you so, so much and I love the kids, Blue and Suzie and the life we have and I hope you understand that before you get mad or anything…"

"Get mad?" I ask. "Why?"

She grimaces. "Oh, god, you have that _look_ again."

I stare at her confused. "What look?"

"That look you have, that look you have that's trying to decide whether to hurt me or kill me or something…"

"Will you guys _stop_ with the looks I have," I say now. "I don't _have_ a look. Geez."

And because San is tipsy, she grins and says, "Yeah, you do. You always do. You even have a look when you come."

This makes me blush, for some strange reason and I say, for lack of something better to say, "What was it you were going to say?"

"I was going to say…" and here she stops, "…But before I say anything, you have to _promise_ not to be mad, okay? Because I'll take care of this and I just… I couldn't live with myself if I kind of just…sat back and let things happen like this and did _nothing_ and I'll take care of you and Suzie and Blue and it's all going to be okay, okay? You shouldn't worry about this, okay? Please don't be mad. It actually took me a few drinks just to get the courage to say this, to you now, and just to kind of deal with all this and…"

I look at her more intently now. "What's wrong, San?"

"Baby, I think… I think I might lose my job…"

* * *

_**A/N:**_

_**That's it for this chapter!**_

_**Thanks for reading and reviewing! Reviews, PMs and favorites welcomed and much appreciated!**_

_**Hope you liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing (and agonizing!) over it. I wasn't sure about the tone, direction, realism, drama of this chap, but my beta (thanks beta DragonsWillFly!) assured me it was realistic and not overly melodramatic because I really struggled with the balance of the tone of it, so I hope you guys really like this. I'd love to hear your kind reviews for this chapter.**_

_**Also, this chapter actually already gives you clues about why the title is the way it is, and yes, this has always been the direction of this story (even before I finished "The Learning Curve"). Thanks, as always for trusting me with this.**_

_**Also, lest I forget, grateful acknowledgement to Stuart Avery Gold for the "Ping: A Frog in Search of a New Pond" quotes and ideas.**_

_**Now on to your comments:**_

_**To sammywammy1120 - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Now why was that thing about diaries and Alzheimer's familiar? That's not from a Nicholas Sparks' novel is it? Anyway, I can't say much without revealing too much, but know that it's not as tragic as all that. Hope you enjoyed this too!**_

_**To kutee - Hey! Let me just say, thanks for reading and re-reading and reviewing all my stories ("In the Loop", "The Space Between" and "The Learning Curve"), I much appreciate the encouragement and reviews. Also, hope you like this chapter, too. Thanks!**_

_**To MelovePezberry - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Glad you like the new format! Glad you love the Rachel stuff and the breastmilk jokes. :) Anyway, again, many thanks and hope you like this one, too!**_

_**To kaiamz - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope this chapter answers your queries. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too.**_

_**To pictureofsuccess - Hey, thanks for reading and reviewing! :) I really appreciate it. Glad you loved the humor (re: daytime soaps), the meta-commentary (you know I live for the meta!haha!) Hope you liked this chapter, too!**_

_**To baxterj and blushyskittle3321 - Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you liked this chapter, too!**_

_**To kickangel - Hey! I know I've already replied to your review, but thanks for reading and reviewing anyway. Hope you liked this chapter, too!**_


	9. Pt 2: The Other Half Speaks

I consider myself a pretty bad ass bitch.

I've stood up to bullies in school.

I've beaten people up just for looking at me, or blabbing about me or even just taking what's mine, be it someone I'm dating or a position that's rightfully mine, or even just a pen lying around on my table.

I've joined one or two Occupy Wall Street demonstrations in college.

I've stood up to corporations who've threatened to destroy my career if my firm and I didn't back down from a class action lawsuit.

I'm good at what I do. It combines the things that I'm really good at: bitching, arguing, winning and making people cry.

I'm good at negotiations and compromises and twisting arms and bleeding the enemy for all they've got.

I'm good at what I do and though it wasn't the first career I'd have thought of for myself, I actually love it and there's a high I get from being in the court room, or coming up with strategies or always being one step ahead of the opponent that I find really exhilarating and very fulfilling.

But when it comes to my family - it's a whole other thing altogether.

There isn't a manual for how to raise a family, or how to deal with the things that life throws your way. Nothing prepares you for your on-again, off-again girlfriend appearing on your dorm doorstep two years after she told you she wants you to go and be with other people, that she's thought about all of it and she wants to marry you and have a family with you, nothing prepares you for the time when she decides to get pregnant with you, nothing prepares you for when your wife goes into labor, and nothing definitely prepares you for when the baby you weren't sure you could be a good mother to, the very same baby you weren't sure you wanted in the first place, is born, all wrinkly and tiny and beautiful and you realize that you love and adore this tiny person even though you barely know her. But nothing also prepares you for the day when you find out your wife is sick and nothing certainly as hell prepares you for the long, agonizing days and weeks and months of watching your wife get sicker and sicker and slowly waste away until all that is left is the shriveled shell of her former self where before you only saw light and sun and rhythm and beauty and song - and even that light eventually gets extinguished when she dies and you think something in you dies, too, when she dies and something in you gets buried too, when you bury the only woman you think you'll ever love.

But life has other plans for you.

Through the haze of alcohol and pain and grief and depression and despair and the work you've throw yourself into, you find that life hasn't given up on you and it comes in the form of a woman, once a girl, the girl you couldn't stand in high school, the girl with storyboards and a penchant for drama and weird, funny faces and who always seemed like a hamster hopped up on caffeine and had an obsession with Barbra Streisand and boys who never seem to deserve her, the girl you sometimes used to alternately make fun of and defend to other people who made fun of her.

I think now maybe I used to do that before because…well, if there was any other girl other than Brittany that I'd be interested in, it would have been her - because we were equals, and she was as smart and as driven and as ruthless as I could be, and equally as strong and determined and passionate and loving…or even more so, than I'll ever do.

But again, nothing really prepares you for Rachel Berry.

Nothing prepares you for when she suddenly appears in your life, years after you've kind of put behind you that one drunken night with her those many years ago, because you'd moved on, because by that time then, you ended up marrying your high school sweetheart and had a newborn baby to take care of and three jobs and law school to juggle. But then, that has gone, the newborn baby is now a talkative seven year old fixing up dates for you and you're a busy up-and-coming human rights lawyer who takes one look at this woman and it stirs something in you again: hope, you think, the possibility of love, you even dare think, a new hold on life.

And though you try and try to push her away - it's no accident it took you three years to even tell her you love her, even longer to finally move in with her and even longer to propose to her and marry her, and when she wants to have a child with you, your answer is uncertain, unsure, much like the first time a long-gone woman with blonde hair and a ready smile once asked you to have a baby with her. But she kind of slowly insinuates herself in your life, in your thoughts, in your heart, like the sneaky little thing that she is and you wake up one day and realize you can't live without this amazingly resilient, persistent little woman and you realize that you love her and it kind of freaks you out, because loving someone already means there's always the remote possibility of losing her - to another, to a passion she loves more than she loves you, to a disease, or simply just the ravages of time.

And when this same woman - who has always been independent and strong-willed, and infuriatingly feisty and stubborn and headstrong - gets pregnant and you find out she is pregnant and the pregnancy has complications and she goes into premature labor, and the baby you weren't sure, again, if you wanted or not, turns out not only to have a weak heart and weak lungs and weak eyesight, but as it turns out, is also mildly hearing-impaired, and your other child, who has always been precocious and eerily mature for her age, collapses during her audition for a dance school she's been preparing for for months, and your wife is arguing with you and accusing you of not being involved with your family as much as you should be, and you're about to lose your job at your firm because well you've found something out that compromises your values and morals and what you stand for and what you've built your whole life on, well…A person can only take so much.

A person can only take so much.

And it had just been too much for me.

And when we'd had that fight, that night, when she'd told me, in not so many words, how she may be regretting having married me and having Blue and having a family with me, something snapped. I don't know why, but I remember being so mad. I was so mad.

I was so mad at everything.

I was so mad at the world - for Blue never ever going to be normal, for Suzie collapsing from exhaustion, for Rachel having to go through this, for my job suddenly sucking because I have a boss who, in not so many words, is a dicknail and an asshole, for myself - for being unable to do anything about all this, for feeling helpless and useless, for having stupidly and monumentally handled this in such a monumentally bad way, for letting my wife and my children down, for not being there, for being afraid, for never having conquered that fear despite having survived an illness and a death and two births and the threat of loss all the time, for being a human, for not being perfect.

I know it's not my fault, and it's obviously not my wife's fault, and obviously not my children's fault, and there is really no one to blame, and yet I find myself looking for someone or something to blame - and finding none, I kind of lash out, because I've been keeping it all inside and sometimes…sometimes something's got to give.

And I was so mad and so pissed I felt like screaming or hitting something or just kicking a puppy or something. And things kind of just went dark and I had all these thoughts in my head, all these things I'd wanted to say but had never had the chance to do so, and they're all there - all at the tip of my tongue, venomous words, vomit words, words that will hurt and maim and wound like they used to do when I was younger and crueler and more selfish and self-centered and never cared for other people's feelings but my own. But this is my wife and I love her and I know I will always love her, and I know the power of words, and it doesn't matter whether I mean it or not, the second I let it out of my mouth, and it can't be unsaid, and I know I'm going to hurt my wife and I didn't want to do that to us because despite everything - my own inadequacy, my confusion and anger and hurt and everything else, I still love her, so I choose, instead, to grab my keys and drive off in the car, intent on just putting as much distance between me and the house, intent on just being alone for a while, intent on just being able to cool off, clear my brain, gain some perspective, gain a handle on the situation.

I drive around for a while, imagining myself crashing the car into a pole or a wall or driving it all the way into the river or something, and get it over with, because sometimes, things just get a bit too much and I'm only human and I can only take so much and just _fuck_.

And it starts to rain and I start to turn on the windshield wiper and I turn on the stereo, and play something angry, screaming guitars and howling vocals and pounding bass, and as I do so, I find myself parking the car in a deserted lot and I crank the volume up and I scream and scream and scream my lungs out it rains outside. And I scream and scream and scream until I have no voice left and I try to hit something, anything, the dashboard, the side door, anything, and when I can scream no more, I calm down, and I hear my heart pounding away in my chest and I start to cry.

I consider myself a pretty bad ass bitch.

I've beaten bullies up, I've stood up to corporate bullies, I've faced stuff that others would've shriveled at the thought of doing. But I'm good at what I do. And I like to think I'm one of the best.

But when it comes to my family - it's a whole other thing altogether.

And I sometimes don't know what to do.

I get lost.

I get overwhelmed.

I get scared.

And sometimes, when there's nothing else…all that is left to do is cry.

And so I do.

So I do…

* * *

I grew up in a family where family and friends were valued, treasured and loved, where family ties were important, were duty and honor, honesty and hard work, truth and justice were values we strove for. We took care of our own. No one got left behind. And so when someone asked me once, in unabashed admiration, why I'm so good at what I do, what I stand for I remember my dad impressing this upon me, when I was younger and it's what I readily answer.

My parents weren't born with silver spoons in their mouths. And while they never really struggled when then were young, it wasn't smooth sailing either. Life hadn't been easy for them. Dad had been in Med School and Mom had been studying to be a social worker when they met. _Abuela_ had already objected to Mom choosing to be a social worker. _Abuela_ had been a teacher in Cuba, and being a social worker was just being a teacher, twice removed. _Abuela _also thought being a social worker was a thankless, underpaid job and she had vehemently protested against it. When Mom had met Dad - in a bar frequented by university students, Dad had swept Mom off of her feet right away and they'd started dating soon after. When _Abuela_ found out, and found out that Dad had a little African American blood in him, that didn't sit well with _Abuela_._ Abuela _came from the old country, came from an older generation, came from an extremely conservative family, and had married this equally conservative, stoic, stern German-Irish man, who typically, had reservations about Dad as well, despite the fact that Dad was a med student on his way to a good career, so it shouldn't have been a problem, but it was.

Anyway, my father's family had been none too happy at the union as well - mostly because it felt like Dad was marrying into a stuck-up family and I think they wanted Dad to marry a doctor, too or something.

But anyway, when they got married - in Dad's junior year in Med School, that kind of made the family on both sides cut off all communication to Mom and Dad. For a time, long after Carlos and I were born and already stringing whole sentences together, the families refused to talk to Mom and Dad, even though Mom and Dad religiously wrote letters and sent pictures and tried to call them, but they kept hanging up on Mom and Dad, but they never gave up. Dad's parents were the first to thaw, especially when we started going to school. Mom's parents took a longer time to come around, but they eventually did, one achingly painstaking step at a time that took years and years to achieve and culminated in the birth of my second child. I don't know why but that probably sealed the deal.

Anyway, I never got this emphasis on duty and honor, truth and justice, honesty and hard work, and stuff when I was growing up. Carlos and I never had that kind of problem, never wanted for anything. We had killer health plans and insurance, the house, the picket fence. We didn't even really live in Lima Heights Adjacent (just Lima Heights, really). That was just some bullshit story I cooked up and told people so they would be afraid of me. The truth was I was afraid. I'd been afraid my whole life. I was afraid of what people might think. I was afraid of being ostracized. I was afraid of being made fun of. I was afraid people would make fun of me like they made fun of that gay kid in grade school, like they made fun of Kurt all throughout high school. I think I suspected I was gay from as early as grade school - I kind of just ignored it and thought it would go away, like pimples or a toothache or a really bad headache or hangover, and things were okay for the most part, until junior high and high school.

High school had been tougher than middle school and junior high combined. High school was different. It was large, it was confusing, there were a lot of predatory, horny teenage boys, and some predatory high school teachers and a social hierarchy that dictated who you hung out with, who you dated, what you wore, which club or team you joined or rooted for, which bar or club you were supposed to go, even what you were supposed to eat, because there was always someone with a camera phone or something who could take a photo of you and post it online for everyone else to see forever.

So, thanks to my very inadequate dance background and Britt (who'd taught me the basics of dance and cheering - she'd been doing cheering since junior high), I got into the Cheerios, made friends with Quinn, joined the Celibacy Club, alternately ignored and bullied the losers, dated Puck, wore the right clothes, ate the right stuff, went to the right places, and generally put the fear of God in those other wanna-bees in school.

Whenever I feel my exterior showing cracks, as when I was foolishly shoehorned into joining Glee Club, I just tried to remember Quinn being outed and kicked out for being pregnant, and being outed for being fat, and Kurt always being tossed in the dumpster along with Jacob Ben Israel and the others, Rachel, Tina and Mercedes being slushied and I just stayed who I was. Quinn had everything taken away from her in an instant, her popularity, her position, everything, and I didn't' want that. I wanted to be popular. I wanted to _stay_ popular.

But then…Brittany kind of just…_happened_.

I actually met her freshmen year in high school, somebody'd been bullying her, and I hadn't even thought about it, I just naturally kind of beat him up - because if there's one thing I hate, it's some stupid, entitled asshole bullying somebody weaker than he was. It really just pisses me off. Come to think of it, I'd probably spent most of the time I had with Brittany defending her from assholes. That night, I think I might have earned Britt's undying love and devotion, and no matter what happened, she would always, always come back to me. She actually called me her "knight in shining armor" - which is as clichéd as clichés go, but she seemed so happy with it, and I'd been a bit of a tomboy anyway (my mom had forced me to go to ballet school just to get the tomboy out of me, but the teacher had told me off and I'd gamely told her off, too, complete with a random f-word and some other creative English and Spanish expletives that shocked both my teacher and parents and made them stop me from going to dance lessons altogether . Never cared for ballet, or for people telling me off, too. The only one whose insults I never minded hearing were Coach Sue's, because she was good and she could take kids places) that I kind of just let her call me that all the way to adulthood.

Anyway, so after that incident, we were inseparable.

And so, Brittany happened.

Brittany happened and for a couple of years I hadn't thought about what innocent activities - like linked pinkies, or making out in front of boys, or making out with boys while thinking about girls, or making out with girls for fun all meant…except for that one day in junior year, in Britt's room, when she had been practicing a dance move, moving in one swift, fluid movement, the sun catching the color in her hair, and she looks at me with a soft, innocent smile, Brittany, with her quirky, innocent, adorable way of looking the world, her Dr. Seuss books and her Sweet Valley books and her Twilight books and her obsession with One Tree Hill and Kesha and her amazing dancing and I kind of…just didn't want to practice making out with Brittany anymore…I kind of just wanted to _be_ with Brittany. I kind of started thinking that being with boys were just stupid. And pointless.

And that's when I realized I was gay.

And that's when I realized things would change for me.

And it changed when I told her I loved her.

And it changed when I finally admitted I was gay.

And it changed again when she turned me down and then a year later, came back to me and asked me for another chance. And it kept changing when Finn outed me and that video outed me to the whole state of Ohio and my Abuela disowned me and I almost got expelled and all people could do was sing me stupid pointless songs…

It was probably the lowest point of my young life then.

And at that time, my parents had been too busy to come and attend the meeting with the principal over whether I should be expelled or not.

I've said it before, I'll say again, the douche deserved that slap and for what he did, a slap wouldn't have compared to what he actually deserved. And though I'm over it, I just remember that time for me as traumatic and depressing - but because I was Santana Lopez, there really was no time to sit in one corner and cry your eyes out and complain about how fucking unfair the world is.

Right after the meeting with Principal Figgins and the horrid "sing-to-the-just-recently-outed-lesbian" fiasco and right after I'd come out to my _Abuela_, I saw my Mom though, leaning by the side of my car, in the parking lot, patiently waiting for me.

When I'd asked her what's wrong, she had said nothing, but she indicated that we get into the car. The school had already emptied out, and the parking lot was deserted and we were silent in that parking lot for what seemed like forever, before my Mom speaks up.

She starts with she's heard what's happened - Figgins had called her and my Dad and she'd come right over, had waited the whole time for me, just so she can talk to me. They'd been informed about the general thing that had happened - I'd insulted Finn, so he insulted me back, with the one thing he knew could hurt me - Brittany. And it had hit close to home, and so Finn saying that, especially in front of Brittany, was really mean, and horrible, and I'd hit him after our song because the douchebag deserved it.

She'd said she already knew Finn's side of the story, from Figgins, but that she had wanted to hear my side of the story as well. I wonder how much she knows but when we talk further, after all, I'd been publicly outed, in the hallway. It's not like the whole state of Ohio didn't know I was a big lesbian.

So I told her - about the New Directions/Trouble Tones rivalry, the trash talking, the dodge ball incident, the insults I'd hurled at Finn and Finn retaliating by saying that stuff to me.

"What stuff?" my mother had asked, feigning ignorance.

And I realize then that she wanted to hear it from me, not from anyone else.

And so I took a deep breath. "That stuff about Brittany and how I love her and how I'm being such a bitch all the time because I don't know if she'll ever love me back the way I love her."

My mother was silent. She was so silent that I'd actually kind of started to grow afraid. I was afraid she might disown me like my Abuela had disowned me. And for a time she refused to look at me. But then she speaks and asks me, "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" I ask.

"Are you in love with…" and here I can see my mother visibly swallow… "Brittany?"

It is my turn to swallow. There is brief time that stretches forever, in which I debate quickly the merits of denying it, because _Abuela_ had already disowned me, I'd kind of just publicly witnessed my own very public outing and fall from grace, and I really didn't want my own mother to disown me or throw me out of the house, too. But there was also a part of me that kind of just…grew tired of the lying and the denials and the just pretending to be someone else, and I don' t know what takes hold of me that afternoon, but I take a deep breath and I say, "Yes, Mom. Yes. I love Brittany."

And there is another silence, in which I am unable to look at my mother. Because I couldn't really look at that disappointment in her face, too. What I hear though, are sobs, sobs that start out really quiet, but then turn into louder ones, and I turn and see my mother's back moving as she sort of leans forward, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes, and I know she's crying because she's disappointed at me, and I brace myself for if she slaps me or something and I kind of move my body a bit further away, by the driver's door as she cries.

When she can speak, she says, "So are you gay?"

I couldn't speak again, and I feel a lump in my throat and I only nod, but then I realize she wouldn't be able to see me, so I say, softly, "_Si, Mami_. I am gay."

She is silent again. "I don't know what's going on with you, Santana," she begins, after a time. "You're beating people up, you're slapping them, and punching them and picking fights and insulting people and hitting them with dodge balls, and I'm really tired, Santana. I'm tired of all of this. This isn't you, Santana. Where was the Santana I loved and adored and would move heaven and earth for? I know being in high school is tough and I cannot begin to imagine what high school is like for young people these days, but…this isn't you, _mija_…"

"Mom…" I interrupt. "This _is_ me, Mom. I'm gay and I've been gay for quite some time now and…"

"That's not what I meant, _mija_," my mother says. "I meant, this isn't you, the hurting other people and insulting them and expecting them to treat you nicely when you've been a bitch to all of them in turn. And I think to myself… and I've been thinking this for a long time, now, _mija_, that I think I've failed you. I've failed you as a mother, because you wouldn't have been like this, had I been a better mother. Maybe I've worked too hard, maybe your father has worked too hard, maybe we've substituted allowances and cars and in place of just…being there for you…and for you to feel the need to take out your frustration on the other kids because you think we would never accept you for who you are, tells us that we've failed to tell you that we will love you no matter who you are, Santana. That we will love you no matter what. I don't understand this…gay or lesbian thing, _mija_, frankly I would just prefer it if you just went out with a nice young man and gotten married and have kids but it's never that simple, is it? And I don't know if I can accept it as readily as all these white people seem to, but if it's going to stop making you be angry and bitchy all the time, then I'm all for it. Because frankly, I've had it, _mija_. I've had it with the bitchiness and the attitude and everything else, and frankly, what I'm going to do now, _mija_, is just, get out of this car and start walking and contemplate on what I did wrong for you to think we wouldn't love you if you turned out differently from the others."

And that's what my mother did.

She gets out of the car and starts to walk. Never mind that Lima Heights is miles away, and that it's cold and the sky's gloomy and it looks like it might rain. She gets out of the car and starts to walk.

And as I get out of the car and ask her to come inside, it's too cold and too far to walk, she shakes her head adamantly, ignores me and continues to walk. And I get into my car and start it and drive beside her, at five miles an hour, from the parking lot all the way to Lima Heights, and seeing my mother walk that far was probably the longest drive I've ever had to make.

It occurs to me then that my mother and my father, never minded me being gay - they struggled to accept it, too, come to think of it, but I realized then that they loved me no matter what, and that nothing else mattered and I didn't have to pretend anymore. Or be so full of rage anymore.

Of course, my father would have his own brand of punishment for me - the summer after my high school graduation, his graduation present for me was a flight ticket to Puerto Rico to visit the relatives in the _barrio_, and that had been quite an experience in and of itself, but that would be a story for another time, maybe.

Anyway, it had been a long, long drive to Lima Heights, a long drive that made me realize all this.

Something had changed that day for me.

Something fundamental.

I think it was probably at that moment when I realized my life would never be the same.

All that seems like a blur now.

All that seems like a distant dream.

* * *

Most of my memories of high school are of Brittany.

And sometimes, Rachel.

But mostly Brittany.

The clearest memory I actually have of Rachel come later…

* * *

My clearest memory of Rachel still has to be that time after high school when I'd visited her in New York and had a few drinks and then some.

At that time, I'd been considering dropping out of college, and moving to New York. Kentucky, the classes, girls in libraries checking me out, cheerleading practices, grades, scholarships, overwhelmed me. And I had a girlfriend who alternated between wanting to continue our relationship and wanting to go on break, and wanting me to go out into the world and not hide myself in Kentucky. By the time I decide to go to New York for one weekend, my relationship with Brittany was on a break, we were on the rocks, the long distance relationship thing wasn't working, and it had me even more confused.

College wasn't all it was cracked up to be, I found out. It wasn't the big frat party with bikini-clad girls and water slides that Finn and Puck, who kept claiming they went to a proper college but probably went to a made-up community college or something, made it out to be. There were classes to go to, textbooks on a variety of subjects that included philosophy, literature, history, and math (ugh, I hated math), to read and highlight and memorize and regurgitate later to humorless professors at a moment's notice, friends to be made, cheerleading practices to attend, roommates to deal with, shared bathrooms to use and so on. It wasn't like high school at all. The seniors actually had a bet going on to see which freshmen every year would give up before the first semester or even the first week of the semester ended. My roommate herself, this idiot from Alabama, had bet with people that I wouldn't make it at all. She'd let it slip during one of those Friday night parties the cheerleaders threw. She had drunkenly explained that I looked like the kind of bitch whose bark was louder than her bite, and that I was all bravado and words and swagger and not enough guts. She actually hadn't finished that sentence before I'd slapped her on the face and since she was drunk she hadn't remembered being slapped. I felt a bit guilty for losing my temper again - I was trying this new thing where I wouldn't use violence whenever I didn't get what I wanted or had someone piss me off, but she totally deserved it. Anyway, I left the party, grabbed an overnight bag, and hopped on the next train out of there, all the way to New York.

I don't know why I'd decided to go to New York, instead of Lima, which was at least a bit closer to Kentucky than New York was, and I don't even know why as soon as I hop on the train the first person I think of, the first person I call as I take a seat is Rachel, groggy and sleepy and wondering why I'm calling and mumbling, "Do you know what time it is?" before she perks up at my mentioning coming to New York and she excitedly offers to come pick me up and offering to let me stay at her apartment.

New York was even more overwhelming than Kentucky could ever hope to be, more overwhelming than the last time I remembered. The high rise buildings seemed taller, the traffic much worse, the people even ruder than usual, the smog thicker than ever before, the smell of piss and rot much stronger than before. Rachel hadn't seemed to mind it though, and had excitedly waved at me when she sees me step off the train, and actually attempts to hug me but for the look of murder I must have had on my face, so she smiles instead and pulls me to the next cab she finds and takes me to her apartment, and we eat and go out and watch a play and end up in a bar drinking cocktails and wine as we catch each other up on what's been going on with our lives.

I'd told her about Kentucky, Brittany, my general confusion with my life, now that there is no Glee Club and Cheerios and Brittany to build my high schools days around, no classes to skip or students to bully or teachers with way too much hair gel on their hair and way too awful teaching skills to bully and how I actually want to drop out right now, and maybe stay in New York to figure things out.

Rachel tells me she wants to drop out, too, and how she misses potato sack Hudson which, for some strange reason, irks me to no end, because seriously, if she keeps her taste on men strictly limited to assholes and douchebags who are incapable of respecting other people, then I can't be friends with her. I told her as much and she just rolls her eyes in turn at me and we end up arguing about her really bad taste in men. But for the most part, we had fun that night, fun that I'd never had since I got into Kentucky and when it was time to leave (me briefly asking her if her bestfriend, Lady Elaine Fairchild, was in her apartment, to which she rolls her eyes and says, "No")- I found myself wishing the night would never end.

Anyway, Rachel had convinced me to stay in college, but not before telling me off-handedly, on our way to her apartment, that if I ever do change my mind, there's always a place for me in her apartment and that NYADA has a great extension program for non-students to keep my "motor revved" while I figure things out, which really pissed me off, because leave it to Rachel to think she knows what's best for people, for _me. _That starts yet another argument where I tell her it's not her business to know what's best for me, and can she just leave people to figure those things out on their own and how they want to achieve it without her telling them what they're doing wrong and how she can fix it? And I tell her, not everyone dreams of being on Broadway or being a Broadway star because I seriously never ever want to be in "Funny Girl" and can she just get off my back because I have my own amazingly awesome dreams. "And what's that?" she asks me, and I tell her, just out of spite, "a lesbian bouncer", a "cage dancer", a "construction worker", an "orthodontist", maybe even a fucking "_matador_" the point being it's none of her fucking business and she's telling me off for my language and that leads to us calling each other names like "spoiled little brat", "geek", "dork", "freak", "loser", "bitch", "jerk", "douche" , "a-hole" before we stop, apologize and start giggling, both of us drunk on cocktails and wine.

Years later, after all the pain and sorrow and grief and loss and despair that pass between us, that happen in our lives, and Rachel and I find each other again, years after Britt's death and her own divorce, we pick up from where we left off, as easily as if we had only lost days instead of years apart, and that meant, those first few years, we argued and negotiated and compromised until we eventually find the right balance in our relationship. Rachel and I would always, always have that kind of dynamic, I think we may have found a way of just letting the other _be_ who they are, but still accommodate each other's needs and still be able to call out each other out on her bullshit. If there's anyone who's infuriated and frustrated and annoyed and pissed me off and made me want to tie them up and, well, muzzle them, as much as anyone has, it has, to be Rachel, but if there's anyone who's made me feel paradoxically as happy and as fulfilled and as content as anyone has, it still has to be Rachel. Rachel jokes that it is because it is just hard to apply Santana logic to anything, but I think mostly because you can't apply logic to love. Love knows no logic.

And one of the things we never forget is laugh. In the midst of everything, we usually still find the humor in the situation and despite everything, we still find the funny and laugh. And that night we laugh and laugh, at the bar, in her apartment, and we laughed at how ridiculous things were, how petty things are, how trivial they are - high school, Glee club, high school relationships and friendships, worrying about majors and careers and _life_, itself.

And then we both stop laughing. And we kind of drunkenly stand in front of each other, everything slightly blurry and spinning. And I'm suddenly aware of the fact that she looks beautiful in her dress, and in her make-up, and how much I want to push her hair away from her shoulder and kiss her neck, and jaw and make my way down to her chest. I find myself blushing, because I don't know where that thought had come from and Rachel bites her lower lip and stares at me, too, and then the spell is broken because she suddenly grabs me by my shirt and starts to kiss me and starts to take my blouse off before her hands go to my jeans and starts unbuttoning it, tugging at me as I manage to ask if she's okay with us doing it and I hear her mumbling, irritated, "Shut up, Santana" and I ask about Finn and her Sex Offender guy and she asks about Britt and we agree right there and then not to talk about all that. There's a split second where I do think about Brittany and what this would do to our relationship but I was young and foolish and foolishly drunk and so was Rachel and I think to myself, recklessly, screw it, I'm going to have one night of fun and that's it. And we end up on her bed and nothing is the same after. Later, much, much later, when Brittany falls sick, I regard it as punishment for the million and one things I have done and it makes it harder for me to actually move on and forget but the one thing I promise myself, when Brittany becomes sick, is that if I ever get the chance again, for love, for anything else, that I'll do it better, that I wouldn't be a jerk or a douche or something because I don't want to hurt people anymore, because I'd hurt Brittany and I'd hurt Rachel, too and I hadn't liked that feeling...and for the longest time I thought Brittany getting sick was some kind of karmic punishment on me, even though I didn't believe in karma...

But all these things don't happen yet, and it's just me and Rachel - two young people in New York who are very drunk and suddenly just...filled with desire for each other and I don't even have time to think about why Rachel doesn't seem to be freaking out that she's kissing me, or just, that she's kissing a _girl_, or that she doesn't seem to have any qualms about having sex with a girl. And when we're done, I lie on top of her, spent and sated and the world is still spinning and throbbing, and I try to focus my eyes and I remember seeing an extra hand attached to an arm that is neither mine nor Rachel's hands (because Rachel's hands are on me and mine are on her) and freaking out over it and Rachel begins to laugh and explains that it's her "boyfriend pillow", the pillow Kurt bought for her so she could have something to cuddle with at night. I roll my eyes at this and say, "Well, do you mind if I just take it out? It's freaking me out and you seriously don't need it tonight anyway." And Rachel looks at me then, grabs the pillow and tosses it on the floor, before she looks back at me, smiles this sort of sad smile at me, a sort of pained smile, and she holds my face tenderly and kisses me, a kiss that so jolts me out of my stupor it almost freaks me out. But I have barely processed what was happening before Rachel turns us over and she's on top of me and grinding into me and grabbing my left hand and guiding my fingers inside her as she murmurs about wanting it to be a two-time thing, and I say, "Or maybe a three-time thing?" and she smiles at me as she starts to kiss me again. And later, when she holds me and says, again, in a mumble, that there will always be a place for me in her Bushwick loft, I roll my eyes because of course Rachel always wants to have the last word. She kisses me good night and I drift off to sleep and nothing else is said.

* * *

So, I went back to Kentucky, and study and work three jobs in different bars to help me pay the bills and while most days I feel like I'm about to drop from exhaustion (college is just one big exhausting endeavor in how to slowly kill yourself or drive yourself crazy, really), I still mostly remember college and law school as fun. Brittany had gone off and skipped college and disappeared for a couple of years before coming back to my life and announcing that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me, and that she wanted a family with me, and everything else happens and here we are.

* * *

Looking back at all these things - I guess it's easy to forget that I've never actually had it easy - life's been hard, and tough and I know this one step forward, two steps back approach I've been employing since Brittany died, always afraid to get too attached to anyone, is not good, because by the time I'd lost Brittany I thought getting too attached to people meant you'd lose them in the end, and each time I encounter something like that in my life I always feel myself wanting to back away, back out, vanish to a safer place where I wouldn't be hurt.

And I've had my share of scares with Rachel. When she'd had that operation. When she was pregnant with Blue. When she gave birth to Blue. And now I get that fear with Blue again.

I know my response to these situations had always been terrible, and inexcusable.

But…I guess it was just…this crazy, fucked-up need for self-preservation, to come out of something still alive and intact and unbroken, and I know that's just pretty fucking stupid but here we are.

As I sit there, in my car, I hear my phone buzz and glow where it sits by the passenger seat beside mine.

The sound surprises me, jolts me out of my reverie, and as I grab the phone and swipe it, I see my screensaver, and my wallpaper - that of Rachel, Suzie and Blue, taken one time in the kitchen when the three were just goofing around, soft morning light behind them as Rachel and Suzie play with Blue. I had been reading the newspaper online, and having my coffee - it was one of those times when I didn't have to rush off to work, and there had been something there, the three of them just looking so picture-perfect, my picture perfect family and I realize, as I look at them, that I honestly couldn't ask for more, that life was perfect, that despite everything, I still love Rachel, love her so much I'd move heaven and earth for her, and I loved my children with a ferocity and passion that scares even myself.

I'd quietly grabbed my phone and took a photo to remember that day by. It's what I remember feeling when I look at the picture now. I stare at the picture and then scroll through my files. I'd actually videoed the scene in my camera as well. When I see the video I watch it and see Rachel, all smiles as she leans over Blue who, she's come to realize, has developed this look of distaste on her face when she realizes her mother is feeding suspicious looking goo that looks like vegetables and Suzie, sitting beside them, looking amused at what is going on. Blue is only a year old but I already know she's going to grow up a looker, her eyes looking like mine and Rachel's, eyes a soft auburn brown, lashes long and dark, skin as tan as mine, arms and legs pudgy, hair dark and smooth and short. She is wearing one of those baby pink overalls that Rachel had panic-bought from Macy's right before she gave birth to Blue. At the moment the overalls and the bib she is wearing is covered in goo as she smiles at her mother and aims a spoonful at her and Rachel only sees what's coming a split second before it lands on her face and hair and Suzie, watching the whole scene from one side, erupts in laughter and I see Rachel glaring at her and Suzie attempts to apologize but what comes out are guffaws and snorts but then Blue scoops another spoonful and aims it at Suzie and it hits its mark and I start to laugh, the camera starting to shake and both Rachel and Suzie turn to look at me, annoyed and here I stop and pause the video. I remember that day. I'd pushed the iPad away from where Blue couldn't aim food at it and had actually started to scoot further back - Rachel hates it when I get something on my suit because it's hard to get it out, but Rachel and Suzie look at me and burst out laughing anyway, and just before I leave, Rachel gives me a kiss and Suzie and Blue both grin at me and wave - Suzie mumbling something and Blue just smiling. It had been a good day.

Remembering that day though reminds me of Blue...And I feel a certain sadness again, knowing Blue still wasn't speaking despite our best efforts - mostly Rachel's efforts really.

I think about that now and I worry. I worry because I don't think I can handle that, either. Rachel's good with these things. I'm not. But I'm learning sign language? That's got to count for something? I've talking to Dr. Spacey, too (I thought I'd seen the last of her, but as it happens, talking to a mental health professional once in a while helps with keeping yourself sane), and she's recommended this support group, PCHILD and I've actually tried to attend one session and while it's been overwhelming to say the least, and highly emotional - all these parents talking about the denial and anger and the blaming and how it almost tore the family apart and the struggling and finally the acceptance, and the peace that comes with just letting go, just letting things be, just having faith that things will work out. It's never been easy, the other parents patiently explain to me - there were days when it's all smooth sailing, but there are still days of just wanting to scream or kick something or punch something, but they take it a day at a time, and it gets better as you learn to work around whatever your child has. And the kids, the kids are amazing - some are hearing-impaired, some visually impaired, a couple of the kids both speech-impaired and hearing-impaired, another with autism, another with Down's Syndrome and the parents - they are equally as amazing and I look at them and think we'll be able to make it, too. I look at them and I feel a lump forming in my throat, and I realize how much I've just abandoned my wife and my kid to fend for themselves, to deal with this themselves. I feel ashamed of myself. I know I've been going through a lot with work, but that hasn't been and has never been an excuse to neglect my family. Maybe this new thing that's been offered to me outside the firm will be good for us.

I'm sure we'll figure things out. We always do.

And then I start thinking about this, I realize I have to tell Rachel soon. I have to tell her about what's going on at work. She deserves to know. She's always been good to me and she deserves that, at least. I have to tell her about fucking Wolfram, and how I found out what he's been doing and how that might make me lose my job. Quinn had caught Wolfram bribing Harris and the other Congressmen and she'd caught Harris actually accepting the bribe. The bribe was part of his lobbying methods so he could get his way with the environmental policies he wanted big companies to comply with be passed, an environmental policy that would protect Native American lands, but that had been achieved with corruption and embezzlement and using Native American funds. And Quinn had told me and I had to tell it to my boss, because _fuck_ my dad told me I didn't have to be the kid who grew up with the most money or ended up being the most famous, I just had to be the kid who grew up to help the most people and because there were things like duty and honor, honesty and hard work, truth and justice I had to uphold and_ fuck_ I couldn't just…sit idly by as something like this happened right under my nose and I did nothing to stop it and how could I look at my children after, knowing I'd let something like this happen?

And now I'm going to lose my job because Wolfram is none too happy about the accusation because Washington had confronted him with it and though Washington hadn't named names, Wolfram had been smart enough to figure out how it happened and of course, nobody likes a whistleblower and I already know Quinn might lose her job too, and Washington had already hinted at it, too, and I'm confused because nothing good will obviously come out of this.

So now, I'm this almost out-of-work lawyer with a family to feed and scandal that's going to blow up and immediately render me unhireable and that's just fucking _perfect_.

Would Rachel understand?

Would Rachel still love an almost out-of-work lawyer?

It wasn't like I was going to let that happen though.

I'd already started looking at other firms, and there's actually one, upstate, who's quite interested in pirating me from the firm now and Earth Advocates, but it's upstate, and it requires moving the whole family and I don't know if Rachel or Suzie would approve of that, or even like it. Because if we do that, it would mean Rachel would have to say goodbye to her Broadway and Hollywood career - for a little while, anyway, because we'd be settling in the suburbs, and I'd never, in a million years thought of us as a suburban family settling in the suburbs. There have been other offers, but there either in the west coast, or further down south and I'm still not sure.

Rachel, time and time again, has proven to be the kind of person who kind of just _intends_ to stay, to _stick_, to keep knocking down on your walls till there's nothing left but debris and dust and the memory of a time when she _wasn't_ in your life. And she has this impressive, resolute determination and _commitment_ that just blows the mind away. And if it were not for her and for _that_, I think I'd still be in Cali just…wallowing in despair and grief and depression and not living at all and dragging my daughter into it. As it is, she's keeping my life interesting, and making me live my life to the fullest. She's a good wife. A good mother. I really cannot ask for more.

As I find myself calming down, I turn the volume of the stereo down. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and check the message there.

It's from Quinn. Of course it's from Quinn. And Quinn is asking where I am because Suzie has texted her and has asked her to check on me, make sure I'm okay, because Rachel wouldn't do it, because Rachel had seen how mad I was and the last thing she wants to do now is nag me about where I am. I know the family and friends have been checking up on us (for which I am grateful for) and this is one of those times that I appreciate Quinn being such a good friend. So I smile and quickly reply that I'm fine and alive and I'm on my way home and as I take a deep breath and start the engine, I realize, strangely enough, that I miss my wife and my children, even though I've only been away from them a few hours, and I decide to go home now, and apologize to my wife, and hold her and kiss her and make it all better.

* * *

When I finally tell her, after I've had some vodka, margarita, Manhattan and Long Island Iced Tea, to give me a bit of courage (and I think at first she thinks I'm going to tell her something like I cheated on her or something - which is _so_ never going to happen), she takes it better than I expected. We'd been on a high from Blue being able to talk - even though the words she knows can be summed up thus, to both our families' horror: "Mama", "Mommy", "bad", "hungry", "want", "boobs", "pussy", "freak", "dork", "geek", "crap", and the ever ubiquitous and quite useful, "No". Until further notice, Rachel and I have instituted a moratorium on Suzie teaching her new words, except this might be easier said than done because Blue seems to adore her older sister and more often than not takes to listening to her. So I think this might be as good a time as any to come clean to Rachel about what's been really going on with me.

She doesn't know what to say. At first she panics, and hyperventilates and I end up comforting _her_ and I have to get a paper bag and calm her down and I joke that of course she ends up making my problem about _her_ and in the end we find ourselves laughing and I tell her, "I'll take care of it, okay? I just… I couldn't live with myself if I kind of just…let this slide and Quinn feels the same and I'll find another job, okay? And I'll take care of you and Suzie and Blue and it's all going to be okay, okay? You shouldn't worry about this, okay? Take it easy. Breathe, baby, breathe."

And I tell her quickly that I've been looking at jobs and I do have job offers, it's just the stress of waiting to see what's going to happen next that's been tough on me.

Rachel listens to me and tells me, "Honey, I don't think we need to worry about that - we have savings, I have savings, and I can always go back to work and you can stay at home and…"

She stops when she sees the look on my face and she laughs, "Don't want to play housewife, do we?"

I smile sheepishly. "I'm not cut out to be a housewife, baby, you know that. I mean seriously, you have this thing with Downy and getting the stain out and making vegetarian food attractive that's pretty amazing. I'm pretty good with bringing home the bacon, being the breadwinner and stuff and having my woman bring me my mead and my stuffed aurochs and my…."

"You lost me at mead honey," Rachel tells me, a smile on her face.

I mumble, "Sorry" and she mumbles, "_Dork_." And I roll my eyes.

She hugs me and kisses me and murmurs, "I'm just glad you still just want to be with me and you're not checking out some hotshot lawyer or accountant or something with a food name like…Muffin, or Cookie or Candy or…"

"Cupcake? Pancake? Tofu?" I add. "Baby, you know I don't do girls with food names. I only want to be with you. I mean, with you and your awesome ability to take stains out of clothes, what more can a girl ask for?"

I hold her as she laughs before she kisses me and then, after a moment, I ask her, "What do you think about upstate New York?"

She looks at me then. "What do you mean what do I think about upstate New York?"

I shrug, looking at her in the half-darkness. "I mean…if…if…I lose this job…but there might be another one coming, but it's in upstate New York and we have to move and I know it's not NYC at all and it's going to take you further away from Broadway, at least for a while, but I think it might be a great place for us to start over, and we don't have to worry about Blue because I guess it's a little bit safer and Suzie's graduating anyway, so she's going to move to a dorm and stuff and…We probably just need to institute some austerity measures…and maybe say goodbye to that safari trip to Africa and that Bahamas trip we were planning for…and maybe cut down on the bills, say goodbye to cable, and designer clothes…and maybe the housekeeper… and expensive dinners…and Taco Bell…that family SUV we were saving up for…although when I say austerity, I still want toilet paper and diet Coke and take-out pizza and Chinese…But I think a job upstate might give me more time to spend with you guys, and help with Blue…I know you don't like it when I work late and work weekends, but I think I could probably work less and spend more time with you guys if I can figure this thing out…because I know I have a lot of making up to you and I guess this is a start?..."

And Rachel doesn't even let me finish my rambling - she already knows how much I ramble when I'm nervous and stressed and trying to convey so much in rapid fire succession. Rachel has always been the more "glass-is-half-full" optimist between the two of us, although I know it's been tough as of late. I think it's the last part of what I say now that makes her face light up and she just hugs me again and kisses me and then she pulls back and says, "Honey, it doesn't matter where we are, as long as we're all together…I don't even care if we're going to live in some shack somewhere…and I'm sure they'll need actors or singers anywhere and I can help out…I can probably even go back to teaching…"

Beneath the lump in my throat, I manage to roll my eyes and tease her for being such a drama queen and she laughs, holds my chin in her hand and says, "You know it." And then she looks at me, she really looks at me, before she says, "Is this what you want though? Do you really want this job? Do you really want to move? Do you really want to leave? Your job? This place? Everything?"

And I look at her and she looks at me with this look of pure love and perfect trust on her face and I think about her and our life together and the life we're still building together, and the little family we have and Suzie and Blue, and I realize that none of it, losing a job, looking for a new job, changing jobs, changing states, moving to a new home, mattered…that none of it mattered as long as I had them, because family is important and being a bad ass didn't matter if I didn't have my family with me - because that…that was what was important. That was something to live for. To fight for. So what do I stand for? My family, my kids, something better, a better future. Because all of it, all of it is worth it. Because Rachel's a great mom. And a great wife. And I love her even more for it. And she's always made things work, even when they weren't working or couldn't possibly _work_. And she was able to keep us together, able to hold us together. And the kids are wonderful and I'd give anything to make them all - my wife, my kids - happy.

And I look at Rachel now and smile and nod and she nods and holds my face and kisses me tenderly and she says, softly, "Breathe, honey, _breathe_."

"Hey, I'm the one who's supposed to be doing that," I joke to her.

And she smiles and tucks a strand of stray hair from my face, kisses me and says, "Well, I can do that as well as you can. I'll take care of you, okay? Like you take care of me. We'll take care of each other. And as long as you want me to, I will still spend the rest of my life with you…lawyer job or no lawyer job…as long as you have a job…because I know people say love will keep us alive, but I think food and potable water will do a better job of that."

And I laugh and glare at her and say, "Hey! So you love me _only_ for my job? Like I'm a trophy wife or something? Because…"

And my wife rolls her eyes at me and says, "Santana Lopez, shut up. Sometimes I think you just overthink too much. And yes, it's the job. It makes you look hotter than usual."

I grin at her. She smiles back and says, face more serious now, "Honey, just remember, you are exactly where you're supposed to be. You're exactly who you're supposed to be, okay? I love you, okay? You're perfect. We're going to make it through, okay? End of discussion."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says, smiling. "Because I'm a little psychic like that."

And then I laugh and she holds me and looks at me and I say, "You know I'll always want you to be with me. Move forward with me?"

And she smiles and nods again and I move to kiss her and whisper, "I love you" and she says, "I love you, too" and I realize we're going to make it.

* * *

_**End of Part 2**_

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you liked this chapter, as well. Kind reviews, PMs, follows and faves are most welcome and much appreciated. I know, I know this may not be what you expected but I needed a bridge and a backgrounder and this seemed like a perfect opportunity for that. I know I like going to the past - but I like adding layers of background and characterization, so. Think of it as me doing the characterization and story in a kind of concentric weaving type of storymaking - if that makes any sense. :-) Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chap! **__**Cheers!**_

_****__**Also, Santana is quoting UN Secretary General Ban Ki Moon and his speech at the UN when she says her dad wants her not to be the richest or the most famous, just the one who has helped the most. Because I liked that speech. **_******:-)**

_****__**Mrs. Lopez being upset and taking a walk as a method to drive home a lesson to Santana was inspired by a passage I read from "Chicken Soup for the Soul". Because I'm a sucker for feel-good books, okay? Sue me. **_******:) _(Yes, I'm a wide reader, okay?)_**

_****__**I've also been reading a lot of Judy Blume and Anita Shreve (they're usually a nice break from sci-fi and fantasy) and hence my fascination with the first person POV. **_******:) _Hope you like!_**

_**Again, thanks to the beta DragonsWillFly for going over this. **_

_**On to your comments:**_

_**To **__**baxterj**__** and **__**xphrnzrjh**__** - Hey. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope you liked this chapter, too. To **__**xphrnzrjh**__** - Ender's Game rocks, obviously. ;) **_

_**To **__**kutee**__** - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing chapter 8 and re-reading TLC. It is much appreciated. Glad you liked those bits about Rachel, Blue and Suzie. As for Santana's POV - hope this answers that. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too.**_

_**To melovepezberry**__** - Hey, thanks for reading and reviewing chapter 8. Hope you liked this chapter, too. Cheers!**_

_**To kickangel -**__**Hey, thanks for reading and reviewing chapter 8. Hope you liked this chapter, too. Cheers!**_

_**To **__**pictureofsuccess**__**- **__**Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing chapter 8. Hope you liked this chap, too! **_**:)**


	10. Part 3: Suzie - Letters from Albany,NY

_**Part 3**_

* * *

Hey Kate,

Hey! How are you? I hope all is well with you.

As for us, everything is fine here in Albany. I'm actually home for the weekend now. We've had dinner, and I just finished the requisite "hang-out-with-the-family" time with Mommy Rachel, Mommy Santana and Blue, which meant watching "The Lion King" for, like, the nth time, and patiently listening to Blue hum along to the songs to the movie.

Anyway, it's three A.M. now and I couldn't sleep and I thought I'd continue this email to you. I've actually started writing this like, in a span of a few months while you took like a semester off to travel with your Mom, and I know there wasn't always internet or phones so I kind of just started writing this until you got back from your trip. I just kept adding bits and pieces here and there because I keep getting interrupted - by roommates, classmates, friends, the Moms, Blue (who likes to grab my laptop from me and thinks it's the most awesome invention ever. This is the nth time I've done this actually. I've saved and resaved and typed this multiple times!) and college and work and family keep getting in the way.

The other reason I can't sleep and I'm writing all this stuff is because I've also had too much coffee to drink from work at Dean and De Luca and I've got so much caffeine in my system right now my fingers are literally flying all over the keys of my laptop. So sorry by the way for calling you in the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep, so and I was missing you, so I decided to call you. I still can't sleep, so I just decided to continue this email instead. I know you find my lengthy emails to you weird, but since you're busy and we can't hang out or go on a date because you're still on your trip because you've taken some time off before college, I guess I'm stuck with writing you this one. I know I'm going to see you soon, but still, I miss you.

I'm so sorry about earlier - I didn't know Mommy Rachel was going to come in and I'd also forgotten to lock the door. Good thing you'd only asked me to take my top off. I think she's fine. It's _not_ the worst thing she's ever seen me, us, _do_, so there's that! I don't think she's mad or anything, probably just momentarily shocked and speechless by the sight of her daughter in her underwear and glasses talking to her laptop and stuff. You'd think by now, now that I'm eighteen and in college, my moms would have gotten used to me and the stuff I sometimes do but Mommy R. still kind of blushes so amusingly when she catches me doing something I shouldn't be doing. Is it any wonder I adore and will always adore Mommy R.?! She'd told me over dinner, "You're going to see her soon, Suzie, can't you at least tear yourself away from the computer for at least a few minutes or something?" and I just smile sheepishly.

So, I know I've mentioned this to you before, but college is awesome! And I know you're going to like it here. You cannot imagine how happy I was when I found out that you'd actually applied to Albany State and got in on a full scholarship! I didn't even know you'd applied to colleges here! I understand you hadn't wanted to get my hopes up and have them dashed if you didn't get in, but it's still so cool you'd gotten into a college here! I heard Albany State is an excellent college for music and drama majors and stuff, so I'm so happy for you.

Anyway, I think you'll enjoy college as much as I am. It's amazing! I mean, except for the part where I actually have to go to class or do homework or actually participate in class discussion - but other than that, college is awesome! I am the proud owner of freshly bought, brand new, expensive textbooks and other assorted paraphernalia, paid for, in part, by the grandparents and this brand spanking new laptop paid for, in part, by the part-time jobs I've done over the years, and that I am now currently using to email you. I love that I now proudly own one-half of a shared dorm room, and my very own Empire State U. rape whistle. I know I had initial apprehensions about staying on campus in a dorm but the Moms are of course, both right, it's more practical to get a dorm since if I do have early morning or early evening classes, coming from home to get to class would have been a nightmare. And also because, well, once you get here, I can always go crash in your dorm whenever I feel like it, and that's always awesome. Yes, I promise to study first before anything else, so.

I know you've asked about my roommate - she's okay. She's always just studying and always in the library and stuff - she labels everything and has kind of chalked up a demarcation line between my side of the dorm room and her side of the dorm room, but that's okay, it's totally cool since I go home on weekends anyway, so. Except when she starts clipping her nails and that's just gross. Especially when her nails kind of land on my bed or worse, on my textbook as I read my books, and that's just double gross, because _eeeww_, is my textbook a landing strip or something? There is totally nothing sexy about watching someone clip their toenails. I mean, I don't even understand why she has to clip her toenails. Most of them are black and _dead_. She shouldn't cut her toe nails. She should just…bury them. Have a funeral for them or something. Yeah, I'm totally having a Holden Caulfield thing going on with my roommate. And she keeps freaking shedding like a damn sheep dog it's annoying. It gets on _everything_. Ugh. And the snoring's pretty bad sometimes, too. Sometimes, I have this thing where I grab a bag of Cheetos and aim it at her mouth and when it lands where it's supposed to land, the snoring stops, and she makes this choked sound and spits it out without waking up and it's silent for a while but then it starts up again. Thanks for the earplugs and the extra strength earphones by the way. I've been getting better sleep now. But it also means I'll sleep through a shootout or a lockdown, too, so there's that, but that's okay. Just kidding.

Classes are awesome, too.

I'm enjoying some of the extra classes I enrolled in. I like all these cool classes like ballet and modern dance and music appreciation class and film appreciation and film theory class. I also like this world dance class I have where we study different dances in the world. I like the African dances we're studying right now.

When I go home and Blue asks me how I am ("Zie-zie! Miss you! How you?" she says), I just play African music and we just jump around in the living room like a couple of Massai warriors.

I know you're thinking, why didn't I just go to dance school in the first place? And my answer is - because I didn't want to dance all day long and do auditions and stuff. Plus I've got a scholarship and that college fund from Mommy Britt's parents, so I can just enjoy my education - it's free. I just need to keep my GPA what it's supposed to be and it's all good. Mommy S. already told me I should have the normal college experience and she'd quoted statistics like she's Uncle Sam and Uncle Mike combined and told me that statistics show those with college degrees nowadays have a higher employment rate, especially after the last economic recession, and she also said that sometimes those snobby dance and drama schools breed snobs and Mommy R. glares at her and Mommy S. grins and kisses her and says, "Just kidding, baby".

Will we be like that when we get to be that old, Katie? I know you have a thing for us not getting too serious or taking it slow or whatever, but in the words of Uncle Sam, we are end game, Katiebear. We are endgame. I know, I know, but like, who says that?! Haha. I'm a dork. Sue me.

Anyway, I also have a physiognomy and physicality class and an anatomy class where we study the human body and movement and it's pretty freaking awesome except for the part where I have to memorize all the parts of the body like a damn med student. There's like a part where we discuss what the best kind of self-defense/martial art combo and as it turns out, ninjas are the coolest, because the art itself helps you keep fit and stuff and it makes use of everything. Like if you were a boxer, you're only good with your fists and your feet but that's about it, you're totally going to get clobbered if a UFC guy or a kung fu guy hits you. Mommy S. insists that's so not true, so we have a long-standing debate about that (I think it's because Mommy S. digs boxing, so). Things started getting interesting when we started studying erogenous zones. Or more like, I stumbled on it and made a paper about it and _aced_ it!

I've also joined one of the clubs on campus (Mommy S. encourages me to have some extracurricular activities, too. She was member of the Law Review before, so). I, predictably, joined the dance club, the Empire State Shakers. Yeah, I know, I know, the name sucks, and I asked them once why they're named that and they said it's because they always try to perform earth shattering performances, which, what does that even _mean_?! I'm on a campaign to have the name changed, but apparently it's part of a long old-fashioned tradition, so there. However, they did ask us to design a new logo for the group and I turned in mine, complete with the explanation, and my design won.

Except it was sort of a joke on my part and I hadn't entirely thought it through but now they're taking it oh so seriously and it's so hard to keep a straight face whenever they flash the logo I designed and a hush falls over the group like it's the greatest thing invented since the wheel. I wanted to come clean and explain that it was all a joke and they should totally change the logo, but then they uploaded it into the website and I was like, _Oh, crap_! But finally one of the members had realized what the logo I designed meant and she'd told the captain and the captain realized my logo, is basically that of an ass hole or maybe a boob, with extra-large nipples. Either way I've upset the captain and she was just _livid_ when she found out and she's not talking to me. I'm trying to buy my way into her affections with free coffee though. Hopefully a couple more coffees should do it.

Empire State Shakers does rehearsals and presentations and sometimes, apparently, the group goes on tours and competitions, like to NYC and LA and that's pretty cool, so. I don't think we're going to go to those though, I mean most of the members are new recruits like myself, and half of them aren't that good, but they make up for it with their passion for dance, so there's that. I haven't been on tours myself with the club, but I wouldn't mind it.

As for your questions about Albany.

Well, I must say, Albany isn't NYC. It isn't Brooklyn, or Manhattan, or L.A. or San Fran or whatever, but it has its own charm (I guess I should just be grateful it isn't Ohio, right?). It has a smaller population, but the place is kind of larger than crowded New York City or Brooklyn, and there's actually some fresh _air_ and stuff! And I actually haven't missed those constant threats of being mugged all the time, or those times when I'm in the subway or bus on my way to Brooklyn or on my way to the city and some stupid kid uses his phone as some kind of boombox and plays his music for everyone on the train to hear.

Albany seems like a nice place. Our neighborhood, Buckingham Ave, looks like a neighborhood that likes itself, you know? I see parents walking their babies and toddlers in strollers, and people jogging down the street and people stopping and smiling at us and once, there was a group of moms and a gay dad that kind of welcomed us with cakes and stuff. Mommy R. had kind of answered the door first, with Blue in her arms, and she'd thanked them and stuff for the cake and Mommy S. had come out and asked who it was, and I'd gone out as well, and the moms and the gay dad had all grinned and waved at us and that seemed like a good sign as any that this was going to be a good place. Already the Moms are trying to decide which club to join but I think that's more Mommy R.'s thing than Mommy S.'s, since I think Mommy S. is trying to find a way to get out of it.

Anyway, one time, during the week, this friend of mine and I went to check out the Albany night life and wow, there's actually a thriving night life here. Midtown's where's it at, really, the college students hang out there. Too bad I'm eighteen and can't get alcoholic drinks but that's okay, Mommy S. lets me chug down a glass of wine or a can of beer sometimes, although the limit is like one alcoholic drink and that's it. Although Mom shouldn't have worried - once I started trying out the drinking, the novelty wore off. What's the point of trying out prohibited stuff when your parents already kind of made you try them? But I digress. Maybe I should take you to Midtown sometime when you get here. I hear there's some gay clubs out there, too. Then again, maybe we shouldn't go to those - people might start hitting on you and then where will that lead me? Haha Just kidding. [smiley face]

The only downside is that because the city's kind of massive in geography but not in population, you kind of need a car to drive around, and we have buses and stuff, and I'm cool with that, but it means Mommy R. can't go around with Blue and stuff like she used to in NYC, but that's fine. I'm saving up for a car so I'm working weekdays and stuff and when I am around at home, I do drive her around and stuff, although she's kind of an annoying backseat driver (I love my mom, but she is) and when she starts talking, Blue sometimes imitates her so it's Mom and Blue in the car, backseat driving for me, so that's annoying. But when Mommy S. is around, I'm off the hook, so. Mommy S. still has that nice Honda car and it's really nice and reliable, but since we've got a new house and payments and stuff, she's sticking to the old car, so. Plus, the Moms don't like having two cars around anyway, it's not good for the environment and stuff anyway, so.

Anyway, so the moms are doing fine, by the way, thanks for asking. Mommy S. and Mommy R. kind of sat me down right before the shit hit the fan with that thing that happened in Mommy S.'s work. It kind of sort of reminded me a bit of what happened when Mommy R. got fired from work when she was teaching at Taft High in Brooklyn, and they kind of warned me about what was possibly going down, so when the story did kind of explode on television and it had Mommy S.'s workplace and stuff, and something about Aunt Quinn too, it hadn't taken me by surprise or shock and it kind of prepared me for those crazy weeks when there seemed to be at least one news reporter outside the door or something wanting to get a statement from Mommy S. Thankfully she'd kind of resigned right before it happened, and since the case against her boss is now a federal case or something, she can't actually talk about it anyway, and I guess I shouldn't too, so, but she's okay despite everything, even though the work she was hoping she would get here in Albany kind of fell through so that was a stressful time for all of us, too.

I think Mommy S. and Mommy R. hadn't really told me the whole story because people were going around real serious and worried and stuff and _Abuelo_ had come once when we were still in Brooklyn, and he and Mommy S. and Mommy R. had talked well into the night and one time, it was Grandpa H. himself and then there was Aunt Q, too. I think I hadn't known how serious it was until some guys with aviator glasses, and serious-looking badges had come to our doorsteps and had talked to Mommy S. about what had gone down at her firm and even though she's resigned and stuff she's still involved and stuff, so. But, then for a few days it was all over the news, and _then_ Aunt Q was all over the news and then her boss, Harris, and then Mommy S.'s boss, Wolfram, and then these people that I'd met once or twice or something, kind of started denying stuff and saying weird things about Aunt Q, and some things about Mommy S. and then some idiot reporter put two and two together and realized Mommy R. was the same one who'd started the Music is Life Foundation and surmised that there might be some stupid connection there and that kind of started making me even more mad. And then there were other things, nasty things, like reporters and Harris and Wolfram saying Aunt Q. couldn't be trusted anyway because apparently she'd spent some time in a mental institution or something and she has a bipolar disorder or she's schizophrenic or a borderline sociopath and psycho and you can't trust crazy people and it upset both Mommy S. and Aunt Q. and they wouldn't talk about that part and I don't think even Mommy R. knows about that because she'd asked Mommy S., "What mental hospital?" and Mommy S. had refused to talk about it. But one time, she did talk to me about Aunt Q. (she's my godmother after all) and told me not to be upset, Aunt Q. is awesome and she's the same Aunt Q. I've always known and loved and that I shouldn't trust whatever people say on TV. And we'd stopped watching the news. Or reading the newspaper. Aunt Q. had to leave her job, too, after. But don't worry about her. She has Uncle Jeffrey and they have that restaurant, Q, so. I've called her a few times and Skyped with her and there are dark circles under her eyes and she's exhausted and stuff, but she seems okay and genuinely interested, as always, in what I have to say, although she wouldn't speak about what's going on, so.

It was hard on Mommy R. and Mommy S. though. It reminded me a bit of when Mommy R. lost her job at Taft, and it had been so tough for her, and Mommy S. had stood by her through all that and never left her and everything eventually became okay and stuff.

So, Mommy R. stood by her through all of it, too and never left her side and when some of those idiot reporters would slip through and ask her about Mommy S., she answers in characteristic, diplomatic fashion that establishes, in no uncertain terms, that she will not tolerate such slanderous accusations about her partner. Most times she refuses to make a statement and politely turns down interviews. Her agent, Macpherson, insists she should grant interviews, but she really doesn't want to.

I think Harris and Wolfram will be indicted. Earth Advocates has cut its losses and distanced itself from the issue. Mommy S.'s firm has also done the same, and for a time, it felt like it was just Mommy S. and Aunt Q. against the world, but the feds eventually got to the truth, and people had come out and are willing to testify. Thankfully, it wasn't the first time Mommy S.'s boss and Aunt Q's boss had done these things, so apparently the feds are slowly amassing an ironclad case against them so yay for that. I mean, my moms have literally been through too much, I think a breakthrough in that case is what they needed.

Eventually, things got better after that. I think it helped more when we moved.

And of course, once Blue started speaking, there was no stopping her, and that was a good thing, too.

And then I got an early acceptance to Empire State, last winter, as you know. And I graduated with honors and the Moms were so proud they even let me have a drink. I attended one or two parties, but I prefer the underage drinking at home, you never know if there's some asshole or whatever wanting to take your top off or something while you're passed out drunk, so. The Moms allow me a drink once in a while anyway, and I don't have to take a cab or get a ride from friends, so. At least when I start getting dizzy or whatever, I just stumble back up to my room and sleep.

And then, other things kind of started falling into place, too.

Mommy S. got offered a job here in Albany and after a family conference, we all kind of agreed to come with her. I didn't know what to think at first. She'd told me the news about her work end of my junior year in high school. I was about to be a senior then. I wanted us to stay, and I was a bit upset for a while, I was going to leave friends and other stuff behind. And it's upstate New York. I thought it might as well be Lima, Ohio. Ugh. And I was sulking for a few weeks. But Mommy R. had talked to me and discussed it with me, and how it hurt them to make this decision as well, but that the change might do all of us good, and Blue needs a better environment to grow up in, what with her condition and everything, and she and Mommy S. were kind of looking into settling down somewhere more permanent now. She then says everyone's giving up something as well, for something better. She'd told me she's giving up her Broadway career for a little while too, and though she loves the Foundation, she'd have to give it up for a bit, too, so she can take care of Blue. In my heart I knew all of what she was saying was true, and reasonable, I was just being a bit stubborn about all of it but then I'd realized how much she'd given up as well, taking care of me and raising me. I mean, she could have chosen to kind of live it up and appear in all the movies known to humankind, Nicolas Cage style, but she hadn't. And I think it's because she'd wanted me to have a kind of normal family life where I see both parents all the time at least. After our talk, and even though I was a bit reluctant and bummed to go, I kind of agreed to it and we moved right before my senior year in high school. High school wasn't too bad, I kind of just kept to myself, most times, although I joined the cheerleading and gymnastics and dance club and lead the cheerleading and gymnastics to our nationals win so I guess that wasn't so bad.

Mommy S. kind of worked for a while at that firm that offered her a job, but then this colleague of hers, Johnson somebody, who's also from upstate New York, asked her if she wanted to start a small firm with him, and then this other woman, maybe you remember her? Miranda Vanderbilt, kind of magically popped out of nowhere and was also keen on starting something new as well. She's kind of older now, and her face has kind of grown longer and darker, I think, from all that California sun and I don't know what I was thinking before thinking she looked a bit like Mommy Britt - she totally doesn't look like her at all!

But anyway, they kind of just went off and started their own firm and it's called "Lopez, Johnson and Vanderbilt" and it's kind of cool because it's alphabetical so I get to see mom's and my name first.

Anyway, I think Vanderbilt still remembers me and I could swear, that one time I visited Mom's office, she kind of literally recoiled from me. In fact, she did a double take and seemed to have been pleasantly surprised that I've grown taller and stuff. _The better to bully you, my dear, should you ever come between my two gay Moms ever again_, I think to myself and even though I don't say it out loud, I think she gets what I'm trying to say, because she kind of high tails it out there. Mommy S. had invited her to the house as well, but she hasn't come actually and prefers to just stay at work.

The firm is small and stuff, but they get clients and it pays the bills and Mommy S. seems to be happy with it, because she doesn't work as crazy hours and she can go home before any of us are asleep and she gets to spend more time with all of us, and I think it makes Mommy R. happier, too. And Bluebear kind of seems to have lesser tantrums these days, but that's because now that she's a toddler, and now that Mommy S. spends more time at home, she gets these punishments where she has to stand or sit by the corner, until she apologizes for her tantrums or she's realized what's she done. She's three, so of course she's a monster. But she's my monster of a sister, so yeah, we adore her.

She's kind of lucky because both Moms actually spend more time with her than they did with me, when I was growing up, because Mommy S. was always busy and Mommy R. was sometimes busy but I think it's cool that they're trying to make more time with Bluebear. I think Blue needs more help, so there's that.

We've been attending this PCHILD meeting (it's an sort of national organization with chapters all over the country) - they meet once a week and the best part of that are the baked goodies they make that Blue and I eat (well, which I _steal_ and Blue eats, because Blue isn't allowed cookies or any other sugary treats until she's in high school at least! Haha!) and that's been kind of cool. How's your sign language? Mine's getting better. Blue kind of alternates between sign language and speech - she can speak and hear - when she turns on her hearing aid (she sometimes feels the naughty urge to turn it off or take it off, so), sometimes she just likes using sign language and stuff and she uses sign language when she wants to tell me something naughty like how one of the kids at McDonald's has a head that's too big or creepy or whatever, or she wants some cookies or she wants a sip of my soda - which only works when none of the moms are looking, although Mommy S. is pretty much the more lenient parent and lets her get away with murder, which of course, makes her the cooler Mom in Bluebear's eyes. Which she so wasn't when I was growing up. Mommy R. was the cooler mom for me! Well, they both are, I guess, because I get to drink beer at home even though I turn twenty one in three years, so.

Blue is also going around with goggles on her face. I think she's near-sighted? Or far-sighted? Either way her sight's not that good and I think that contributed to her kind of having a fit all the time. And the moms tried to give her one of those glasses, which she kept taking off, but they finally found goggles which will stay on her face and it's making her happy I think. I don't think the moms will allow her to have eye surgery anytime soon, so it's as good as any. Best thing you can see after a long day at work or at school: Bluebear in goggles and diapers _only_, running around the living room like nobody's business. Second best thing ever? Catching Mommy R. and sometimes Mommy S. in weird costumes or whatever chasing after Bluebear. One time, I saw Mommy S. wearing like a plastic basin on her head and some plastic plates and bowls on her chest and I'm like, "Mom, is that our kitchenware on your person? I eat on those plates, Mom, eeww!" and Mom was all like, "Aw, leave me alone, Suzie."

Blue seems to like Albany, too. She's three. She likes everything.

I mean, one time, we went to the lake and there were trees and water and I could see the sky and for the first time I could smell something that wasn't car fumes or pee or something! It was pretty awesome. I could actually see the sky line, too! We once went to the park (Pine Bush) and there were loads, I mean _loads_, of trees! Blue was delighted. She kind of just stood there, admiring all the trees and watching the rays of the sun slant through the trees and she looks to me and says, I have hair the color of the sun and my heart seizes up because it reminds me a bit of Mommy Britt because she has that kind of hair and I have that kind of hair and I smile at her and I really adore this little girl. She wanted to know what the trees' names were and stuff and she pointed to one tree and asked Mommy S., "Mommy, what's that?" And Mommy S. says, "That's a pine tree." And then Blue points to another tree and asks, "Mommy, what's that?" And Mommy answers, patiently (gah, Mommy S. is more patient with Blue than she used to be with me! And also, she really lets Blue get away with murder sometimes!), "That's a pine tree, too." And Blue goes, "And that?...And that?...And that…?" And she points to each pine tree in turn and Mommy S. answers her and tells her they're all pine trees and Blue stands in front of those trees, visibly perturbed (yeah, I can use those big words like you do, too, Katie!) looking all small and adorable as she looks up at those seemingly gigantic trees and she says, "I don't get it, Mommy. How come trees have the same names? How come they can't get different names like us? Like, you're my Mommy Tana and there's Mama Weychel and Zie-zie is Zie-zie, so how come the pine trees have same names?" And Mommy S. kind of stands there, thinking and wondering how to answer that, and she says, "I have no idea, honey" and I smile. Also, FYI, Mommy S. is Mommy Tana to her, because she couldn't say "Santana", before and it used to be "_Thantana_" and she kind of just gave up and shortened it and it stuck. Mama Weychel is Mommy R. because she can't pronounce the "r" so clearly, too, so. Zie-zie, is obviously me, so. Anyway, she ended up naming the trees, too. And since I had my Swiss knife with me (Uncle Sam bought me one of those as a high school graduation present, because he says I might need those during frat parties and stuff, although I'm not supposed to use it because that would be assault so, yeah) I gamely offered to mark the names on the trees (small marks only, we're actually not allowed to do that, it's a conservation park after all!) and Blue freaked out because she thought I was hurting the trees and I said no, I wasn't. So anyway, the trees, if you must know, are now named, "Tana", "Weychel", "_Bueyo_", "_Bueya_", "Grampa Berry One", "Grampa Berry Two", "Unca Sam", "Unca Kofsky", "Unca Kurt", "Unca Mike", "Auntie Q" and stuff, but then, she gets tired and says, that all the other trees are friends and family. I ask her where's mine and she looks around, suddenly looking worried, apologizing and telling me, "Sowee, Zie-zie" before she spots this really nice blossom, skips to it, plucks one up, runs back to me and says, that's me, and I ask one of the people at the park what that flower was and it's the wood lily, so she's named it "Zie-zie". So I point to a blueberry bush to her and tell her, "That's you, Bluebear, you're blueberry" and she's delighted by that and grabs one of the fruits before I can stop her and I'm taking the fruit out of her hands as she tries to put it in her mouth and we get into an argument and she stomps her foot on the ground and gets really upset but then there's a helicopter overhead and I distract her and point at it and -bam!- problem solved. Kids just make it too easy for me. haha! Blue can be exhausting sometimes, all that curiosity, all that energy - it's quite amazing. I'm continually amazed by my Moms energy to keep up with her. I think she's exactly what we need though - keeps everyone young and on their toes. And she knows people dote on her and adore her, and I think she kind of uses that to her advantage.

For example, when she gets tired, as she inevitably does, like that time we were at Pine Bush, she puts her arms up and I roll my eyes because this obviously means she wants me to carry her and so I do, and she puts her arms around me and lays her head on my shoulder and I'm kind of like, aaww, and I hold her close and kiss her forehead and she pulls her head away and looks at me and makes a face and says, "Zie-zie, you smell funny" and I laugh because _she_ smelled funny.

So when we were at Pine Bush, she kind of just rolled around in the dirt and got up with mud and dirt and stuff on her clothes (Mommy R. was horrified. Mommy S. was all like, just let her go and have dirt on her face and stuff. Mommy R. has since learned her lesson - she now just lets Blue wear old clothes, so she wouldn't feel too bad if she comes home with dirt on her clothes). Blue went home with loads of pine cones that day. And then started hurling them at things. And sometimes I find the pine cones in the bathroom, in the toilet bowl, or in the shower, or on my bed, or on the floor, and since we all sometimes walk around barefoot anyway, we've stepped on those as well. I have the bruises to prove it.

One time we went boating on the lake and Blue, bloody little bugger that she is (sorry, I've been Netflixing and marathoning British films so I'm beginning to sound like them. And sometimes, Mommy R. does the same. She lived in London once, you know, 'cause she's awesome like that. Yeah, my hero-worshipping my Mom knows no bounds), grabbed the oars and insisted she row and we kind of kept going around in circles because she kept arguing with Mommy R. about what direction we should be going and that literally made me feel really sick.

The Moms seem to be enjoying the change of pace and the new environment, too. And they obviously absolutely adore the little one.

We are all just thankful Blue's gone past the first year already and the terrible twos as well. The Moms have gone for days without sleep because of Blue. And Baby Blue was never an easy infant or toddler to take care of. There have been times when she aims food at the Moms when they're feeding her, or aim food at the wall, or aim food at anything really, or during bath time, end up having the Moms wet as well, or end up having Mommy R. covered from head to foot with baby power (that was a classic! I have the picture to prove it!) and there have been days when the Moms had gone around smelling of pee and sick and stuff. But thankfully that's behind us now. Hopefully.

Blue can speak more words now. Whole sentences actually. She's expanded her vocabulary and by Mom's accusation, speaks like a little teenager and they blame me for this. She says stuff like "dork", "geek", "fweak" (freak), "jeyk" (jerk), "towlly" (totally), "dude", "awesome", "oh, my god" (and it's shorter version, OMG), "cool", "rad" (which, actually wasn't mine, it was Mommy R. and we had a laugh with that because…seriously, who says "rad" anymore?), and stuff. She still says, "_cwap_" (crap), "pussy", "boobs" and occasionally, "nipples" with much relish and to the great embarrassment of the Moms, by the way. This was in full display during the housewarming party by the way, of which I will tell you more about later.

She also speaks a bit of Spanish, although most of it is just stuff like, _"Dios Mio"_ (or as she likes to say it, _"Dioth Myo", _with as much conviction as she can muster), "_Ay caramba"_ (_"Ay cawamba"!_), _"Te Amo"_, _"Uno, dos, tres…"_ ("_Uno, doth, treth…_") and of course, _"Si"_ (_"Thi!" _she says). She learned most of it from watching "Dora the Explorer" - which she kind of grew bored with a bit after the first few episodes. Much like she grew a bit bored with Baby Einstein.

Blue actually already knows her alphabet and numbers (she gets as far as ten before she starts getting confused). So Mommy R.'s been teaching her a bit how to read, but Mommy S. and I think that's taking it too far as since she's only three so yeah, but I think Mommy R. will start teaching her soon. Some of our furniture and other stuff are being labeled in Spanish and English now for as soon as Blue learns to read and she's been teaching them the names of stuff. Mommy R. - always the stage mom! Haha! Mommy R. though has taught Blue to say her own full name, know her two mothers' names, my name, our address and stuff, for in case she gets lost or whatever, although fat chance of that happening with Mommy R. always tying Blue to herself with one of those elastic cords and stuff.

But then, one time in the summer, when we'd all trooped to the nearby mall to shop and stuff, Blue had actually almost gotten lost and everyone was starting to panic until the intercom kind of started blaring the message that a three-year old, dark-haired, dark-eyed girl named Sarah Elizabeth Blue Berry Lopez ("That's really your name?" we could hear the guy ask her on the intercom and we could hear Blue saying, _"Yeth!"_) was looking for, _"Her mothers, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, her sister, Susanna Marie Pierce Lopez…and to please come pick her up at customer service…"_ and we'd all rushed to the customer service area to see Blue chatting with some of the mall personnel, in her goggles, Osh Kosh overalls and t-shirt and hearing aid. We'd all almost died from the panic and shock, but the baby had had the presence of mind to look for someone to bring her to customer service and later, Mommy S. and I had found out that Mommy R. had taught her to memorize our names, our addresses, and Mom had sewn her information in all her clothes, and has Blue carry like a laminated identification card with our pictures and contact numbers that she has with her all the time. Mommy R. had also taught her to spot mall cops by their uniform which was a good thing. The other good thing is that mall's kind of small, so I think the mall people kind of are familiar with Blue and the Moms by now. Two gay moms and their kid, it's pretty distinctive. Anyway, kid is smart, I tell you.

Sometimes, Blue's favorite past time is "hide-and-seek" - except when it's "hide-and-seek" - this means she hides and nobody notices until like a good half-hour later and everyone's in a panic, especially at home and I usually spend my time looking for her, and calling out her name thus, "Blue! I am not in the mood. You are so going to get it when I find you," and then I realize later that I am turning into Mom.

One time, we all went to Costco's for Mommy S.'s regular panic bulk buying sessions and they'd bought diapers and baby milk and cereal and a lot of other stuff and when we were at the parking lot, the Moms kind of forgot both me and Blue and then it was a good few minutes after they'd driven off when they'd realized they'd forgotten their two kids. I couldn't believe they forgot us.

So I'm banned from teaching her new words. Not that _that_ has stopped me teaching her new words.

I am also banned from reading bedtime stories to Blue because apparently "50 Shades of Grey" is inappropriate reading for a toddler, even though I skipped the dirty bits, because now Blue is walking around talking about her inner goddess and her subconscious and wanting to play with handcuffs and Abuelo's ties (she got really excited when she saw _Abuelo_ wearing a tie once) and ice? She's developed an aversion to asparagus though and for a time, ice cream, but that wore off after a while. But seriously, how can you not be entertained by passages from 50 Shades like this:

"_mentally girding my loins_

_hot and soft at the same time_

_elongating nipples_

_extend nipples_

_nipples pucker_

_sheathed to the hilt_

_Taunting each of my nipples in turn… his tongue swirling round one while his fingers relentlessly tease the other…My inner goddess is doing a triple axel dismount off the uneven bars.."_

I mean, Katie, baby, how do you mentally gird your loins? How do you elongate or even extend the nipples? How can something be hot and soft at the same time. How is a penis sheathed to the hilt? How do you taunt nipples? Do you kind of take its lunch money and tie it up the flag pole? How would your inner goddess do a triple axel dismount off uneven bars?! I mean…gah! I mean, I'm majoring in kinesiology and that doesn't make sense! I am majoring (or minoring) in psychology and all this doesn't make sense either! I really don't see the point of that book. It seems long and tedious and trying. And there are sections there were the guy, Christian tells the girl, Anastasia, "You have my permission to have an orgasm" or something like that, and I'm like, what the hell, dude? I think if Mommy S. met this guy, she'd beat the crap out of him. Mommy R. will give him a lecture first on how much of sexist, misogynist, patronizing douchebag he is, then Mommy S. will beat the crap out of him. Or possibly strangle him with the many gray ties that he has. I actually secretly hope he chokes on his dentures. The sex in that book isn't interesting at all. It's pretty vanilla. I can't believe this is like an international bestseller!

Yes, I'm a bit sexually frustrated. Can't you tell?

Anyway, Mommy S. has confiscated my copy of 50 Shades of Grey and has kind of reprimanded Uncle Sam for giving me the book in the first place, but I have a copy of it in my laptop so what's the point?! Hahaha! Apparently in one high school (in Ohio, no doubt) one parent sued a teacher for buying his ninth grade student a copy of 50 Shades of Grey and Mommy S. was like "You're lucky you're my friend, Sam, and Suzie's no longer a minor or I'd sue your ass!"

I bet the Moms will read it anyway! There are some stuff there that could be interesting for the moms…

Eeewww…just got a visual.

I wish I could unthink that.

I should just think about the Moms when you and I are together to keep myself from…arriving too early (sorry about that) but…

Eeewww…just got another visual.

I wish I could unthink that, too!

Mommy R. says that's supposed to be a good thing - arriving at all, _not_ getting a visual about my moms - and she says women actually go to vagina workshops and stare up their vaginas with mirrors so they can have orgasms and stuff and of course Mommy S. chooses this time to pass by and she overhears our conversation and she says, "I hope you didn't have to go to those when we started dating…" and Mommy R. kind of blushes, smiles shyly, looks down and says, softly, "I didn't…have to…when we started dating…I…" and Mommy S. has this look of triumph and delight on her face and she grabs Mommy R. and kisses her and I'm getting grossed out by the second as I say, "I…you know what, Moms? Whatever." And they both laugh and wink at me and I make a face.

_Eeeww_, just got _another_ visual: middle-aged women staring up their vaginas with mirrors between their legs.

_Anyway_, Mommy S. seems to have taken an interest in the book and when she thinks no one is looking, as when she is in her office, at home, she's actually going over the book and when we burst in, she kind of guiltily puts it away like she's just been caught trying to steal from the cookie jar (which is totally Blue's M.O. by the way). I also think she's been reading it, because sometimes, when the Moms, Blue and I are just hanging out in the family room (that's what we call the living room), Mommy S. would just suddenly turn to Mommy R. and say random stuff like, in a mock serious tone, _"Oh, Rachel, you smell __of soap…You beguile me, Rachel. Completely overwhelm me, you've bewitched me, let me kiss you with my joy-inspiring expert tongue"_ that just makes me and Mommy R. look at each other and burst out laughing before I realize what Mommy S. has just said about joy-inspiring tongues and I'm like, "_Moooom!_ Eeeww!" I mean, what does that even _mean_? Does Mommy S. go around downtown randomly sticking her tongue out at people?! Damn you, 50 Shades, damn you! Now we can't get you out of our head.

Anyway, I am banned from reading bedtime stories to Blue until such time that I can find more age-appropriate reading material. By extension, Uncle Sam, apparently is banned from reading bedtime stories, too!

Actually, he's not allowed within a fifty-mile radius from Blue until she can apparently defend herself from his geekiness and his inappropriateness.

But I've since upgraded or well, went back to, old school stuff like Dr. Seuss' "The Lorax" and "Horton Hears a Who" and "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and Ping the Frog and the Little Prince (she likes the drawings of the elephant and the boa constrictor) and some other stuff, too. She likes "Charlotte's Web" and "Stuart Little" and of course, "Curious George". There's also "James and the Giant Peach" and curiously, "Where the Wild Things Are" - which she really loves. But then again, that has animals, so. We've also got some Roald Dahl and she likes Kenneth Grahame ("Wind in the Willows", illustrated version). I've tried reading "Puss in Boots" to her, but that book just keeps me laughing and Mommy S. would just stare at me and ask me, "Are you twelve?" and I laugh even harder.

Anyway, a sample of what Blue's been up to these days:

I "broke" her chicken.  
I put the ketchup on the plate instead of on the chicken.  
Her shorts aren't long enough.

Her pants bunched and don't reach her socks.

She has a wedgie.  
I gave her the wrong identical caterpillar.

I hurt the tree.

I am hurting the grass.  
She wants a diaper, not a pull-up.  
The towel she wants is in the washing machine.  
She wants a marker, not this crayon or this pencil.

The wall, any wall, is her Sistine Chapel. As are the chairs, the tables, the floors, any surface that she can write on with a marker or crayon or pencil.  
The crayon broke.  
There's already a scribble on that paper.  
The white crayon won't show up on the white paper.  
She wants the other sippy-cup.  
She wants the other shoes.  
She wants the old shoes that no longer fit her.

She's upset we can't find Pookie, the stuffed toy Uncle Sam gave her.

She's upset with Pookie and is now trying to see if the toy's aerodynamic - but throwing it against her older sister's face to see what happens if an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, preferably when I have a big exam and I'm busy cramming.  
She can't walk in the grass without shoes, but she doesn't want to wear shoes.  
She can't remember words like "pick me up" "potty" "hot" "cold" "sleepy".  
Her jacket isn't long enough.  
Her jacket has a hood.

Her jacket doesn't have a hood.  
The zipper isn't zipped.  
The zipper is zipped up too much.

She wants her Mommy.

She wants her other Mommy.

She wants to watch "Mulan".

She wants to watch "The Lion King".

Also, Blubear is at that stage where she likes to watch the same thing over and over again. As we don't have cable (because as the Moms say, seriously who needs to pay one hundred dollars every month for one hundred channels when you can just do Netflix, right?), which kind of takes me back to those early days when I was banned from cable when Mommy R. and Mommy S. started dating - those were very interesting times: Mommy R. and Mommy S. had different parenting methods. I remember when Mommy S. got so mad when Mommy R. got my ears pierced for me. I thought for sure they were going to break up. I was so worried. Mommy R. had walked out and hadn't come home that night, but then she came home the next day and doesn't speak to Mommy S. and then goes back to New York. I kind of bugged Mommy S. to apologize and made her fly us to New York to personally apologize to her. There've been other instances like this - the last one being the problem with Blue - which finally resolved itself when Blue started speaking, so there's that. You haven't seen parents argue until you've seen my parents do it. They've turned it into an art form, with the guilt tripping and the drama and stuff, complete with the different facial expressions and hand gestures and tonal shifts and volume. One highly amusing argument was the late, great debate over Mommy R.'s portrait which everyone thought had quietly been either thrown, lost, forgotten, burned or moth-eaten and destroyed (Mommy S. had secretly looked at me then with great disappointment on her face), but which suddenly miraculously re-appeared when Mommy R. found out she was pregnant with Blue and she had now wanted the baby to wake up to her creepy portrait every day. That was quite entertaining. Other arguments haven't been as much, though.

I usually can tell if it's going from bad to worse when the volume or tonal shifts change but thankfully that has been too few and far between lately, and Mommy S. usually drives off in the car (they've tried to shield me from the worst of the arguing, and it's usually somewhere private and they think I don't notice, but I do, I just don't know what to do whenever it happens. It freaks me out) and she's gone for hours and I start to freak out because I don't think I can handle losing another parent or a divorce or whatever, I mean, they've been together a long time for god's sake, but then Mommy S. comes home at three PM and then all's well again, so. Funnily enough, I don't remember Mommy S. being like this with anyone but Mommy R. I think. I mean, Mommy B.'s been long gone, and I barely remember her except for her videos and books and notes and letters and stuff, but the memories I remember of her and Mommy S. though are peaceful memories. I don't think I even remember Mommy S. raising her voice to her or driving off in the car and disappearing for hours on end and coming back hours later or something. Mostly I just remember Mommy B. as this delicate, sickly thing that Mommy S. really took good care of and really, really loved, but I remember that time as a time when there was so much sadness. And silence. The one thing I couldn't stand was the silence. There was so much of it. But with Mommy S. and Mommy R. together, and now Blue, there's so much noise, the house is full of it, filled with it, and it just makes the house come alive and when I see them bickering over something, I smile because they seem so alive together, like they feed off each other's love and energy or something and there's something beautiful about that.

Anyway, it took a while but I guess they found a parenting combination for me that didn't make them end up killing each other. Oh, sure, they still argued, but I think Mommy S. kind of eventually came to trust Mommy R.'s parenting methods, so.

Anyway, now that the baby is big enough for such stuff as television shows and movies (we Netflix it as we don't have cable, by choice) and books, the parents have been having a long-standing debate slash argument about the kind of stuff Bluebear should be exposed to or allowed to watch.

I think Mommy S. isn't too worried about exposing Blue to sex, which Mommy R. is opposed to. Mommy S. is more particular about exposing Blue to violence and Mommy R. is all like, we shouldn't be exposing Blue to either sex _or_ violence and Mommy S. would be all like, we can't just keep her from the world, too. I kind of am in the middle about all these, but since all the stuff I have to do with Blue has to have Mommy R.'s approval anyway, I have to run these things by them, I kind of just do safe stuff - except for 50 Shades, which I was curious about, and so I thought I was hitting two birds with one stone when I was reading it to her, so yeah. Anyway, I think I'm protective of Blue as well and I don't want her traumatized by that stuff, too. We've made Mommy R. promise not to give her the birds and the bees talk until she's well and ready because wow, that was traumatic for me. haha! Just kidding. It wasn't.

Anyway, so Bluebear is at that stage where she likes to watch Disney stuff over and over and over again, on the player, too. I thought at first it was going to be bad, because I seriously don't want to be watching the same Disney crap over and over and over again whenever I'm home. But I guess that's better than her Baby Einstein DVDs phase and she had a brief Barney phase too (ugh, I hate Barney, even though I love dinosaurs). Thanks to Baby Einstein she can do her alphabet backwards and forward. It's pretty cool. She can count numbers, too.

Anyway, as it turns out, Bluebear actually likes watching the Disney stuff because she likes the villain. She likes Ursula from "The Little Mermaid" and Maleficent and that voodoo guy from "The Princess and the Frog" - and predictably she likes the music obvs. She really likes the music from "Princess and the Frog" and "The Little Mermaid". Sometimes, we'd be having dinner and then she'd burst out with the singing of "_Unda the seaaaaaa! Unda the seaaaaa!_" in her loud, very, very out-of-tune voice. She's an even worse singer than I am. And the Moms would just kind of sigh and close their eyes, because they've heard that song like millions of times now, so. Sometimes, she alternates that with "_Hakuna Matata_" because she likes "The Lion King", too. She likes the villain in "Mulan" and "Aladdin", too. So yeah, sometimes, she would start singing, "_Be a man! Be a man!_" from Mulan and Mommy S. would drop her fork, look at Mommy R. and say, indicating Blue, "Great, this one will grow up to be a _cross dresser_. Have you and Lady Elaine Fairchild been making her watch 'Drag Race' again?" And Mommy R. only rolls her eyes and jokes, "Of course not, only 'The Real L-World'" and then I'd be left wondering as to who Lady Elaine Fairchild is. I mean, I know it's Uncle Kurt, but I wonder why Mommy S. keeps calling him that.

Anyway, Blue's obsession with Ursula et. al, has Mommy R. a bit worried about it, but Mommy S. and I argue that idolizing villains would actually be good - she won't grow up wanting a prince to save her and sweep her off of her feet. Although I seriously suspect she might grow up gay too, I mean she rocks the short, baby butchy hair anyway and she doesn't scream like a girl and stuff - she likes boy stuff like trucks and planes and creepy, disgusting stuff that freak Mommy R. out. Mommy R. wants her hair longer - I suspect so she can put ribbons and headbands on her head and dress her up like a little princess in pink tutus and stuff, but her hair keeps getting in the way - of sticky stuff, doors, hinges, and stuff, so they've decided she should just have short hair.

Anyway, we say, villains are more awesome - they're more motivated, cunning, goal-oriented, not to mention they have a _sick_ wardrobe. Disney princesses only want the prince and get married and have kids and stuff, so. Mommy R. had looked at us in horror as we listed our favorite villains - mine's Susan Sarandon in that movie with Amy Adams and Mommy S.'s favorite is Queen Bavmorda from Willow. Anyway, after much convincing, Mommy R.'s warmed up to the idea of Bluebear being allowed to watch these things - mostly because if she doesn't she throws a tantrum, which then turns to her being made to stand in a corner, whining and stuff and I can't stand that, so. As long as the parents or me are there to watch with her so she doesn't do any weird stuff, we're fine.

Blue looks really cute. She has skin like mine, like skin the color of light toast and she usually smells of sun and grass and earth because she spends a lot of time out in the sun with her plastic pail and her spade, digging stuff up in the garden in the back, which is Mommy R.'s garden. But it's autumn now, so Blue kind of has to stay indoors else she catches a cold (She wisely asks the Moms, "How do I catch a cold?" which kind of had the Moms pause and think of an explanation and when they couldn't, kind of just shrugged and shook their heads). She does love autumn though, and loves to play on the leaves and tells us, "So _that'th_ why they're called _'leaveth'_!" I'm in charge of raking the leaves in the front and backyard (among other things. I'm also on garbage duty and kitchen duty and vacuum duty sometimes) when I'm at home, and I put them in a mound by one of the oak trees and Blue would just come running up to the mound and dive into the pile of leaves and I'd be like, "Bluebear! No!" but she's lost in the leaves and I'm standing there, annoyed that hours of work has gone down the drain, but I'm like, screw it, and I dive after her and tickle her and tease her and stuff. I don't think I've ever enjoyed autumn as much as I'm enjoying it now in Albany, especially with Blue around. She kind of makes me see things different. Like she'd point at the sky and show me how blue it is and she'd pull me down on the grass and we'd be staring up at the clouds and she'd lie on my arm or my chest and she's telling me what shapes the clouds are, or at night, just before bed time, we'd lie on the grass, in the summer, and stare up at the stars and she'd point at stars and marvel at how amazing it is and both times, the Moms would see us staring up at the sky and they'd join us and we'd all be staring up at the sky, enjoying it and Blue would end up asleep in my arms and then we'd all troop inside the house and I'd put Blue to bed and she'd be all like, "Good night, Zie-zie, Mommy, Mama". Or we'd be in the small wading pool, in the summer - Blue's never allowed near any kind of water where she could get hurt, so there's always someone with her, and we'd stare at our feet and our hands for hours on end, and when our skins go all wrinkly she starts freaking out and I'd laugh and take her out and start drying her with a towel and she grins at me and says, "Thank you, Zie-zie".

We've discovered this community center with a swimming pool and they give swimming lessons, so the Moms have brought us there - so Blue can learn how to swim. I already know how to swim, I'm just not the best swimmer (I'm from the city, we don't do swimming so much). Surprisingly, the Moms are pretty good at swimming, especially Mommy S. When I asked them why they were so good, Mommy S. mumbles something about synchronized swimming in high school, so. The Moms may be old (Just kidding, they're not) but they look really good for their age. Mommy S. is a bit vain about how she looks so she exercises whenever she can, and Mommy S. has this regimen she's had since she was in high school, which is to get up early to exercise and stuff. I saw an old photo of Mommy S. and Mommy R. in high school, and they're always together in a lot of those photos, it's either Mommy S. and Mommy R. together, or Mommy S. and Mommy B. together. Actually, I know Mommies R., S., and B. all went to the same high school together, but I'm curious how it all ended up how it ended up. But I think Mommy B. would have said everything happens for a reason. Mommy B. told me once, sometimes things happen for a reason and things have to die to make way for new things and I asked her "Even people?" And she had smiled and said, "Yes" and I think the new thing she was talking about was Blue. I think she would have adored Blue.

Blue has taken to water like a fish to the sea and she really enjoys it. Once, while the Moms were with Blue as they were teaching her to swim, I'd kind of gone under the water and tried to see how it was for Blue - all muffled sounds and stuff and I think, it must be hard for her, not being able to hear without her hearing aid, but I think the baby is even more awesome because she's kind of gotten used to it as well. Once, she actually had an asthma attack and the Moms, especially Mommy R. was freaking out, but we got through that fine. I think the air here is doing her good. Blue looks healthier, her cheeks much rosier and pinkier and she runs around the yard happily and I think that's good for her, too.

Did I tell you Blue loves sounds?

Once she had her hearing aid and started to hear stuff, she kind of couldn't get enough of it. Especially when we moved here, because it means we have our own front and back yard and she kind of spends hours just lying on her stomach or lying on her back, listening to birds in the morning, or crickets in the early evening and everything in between and sometimes she comes home with stuff in her pocket that freak Mommy R. out and leaves Mommy S. in stitches. Blue has brought home worms, butterflies, ants, bees, spiders (which she calls, "_spee-yay-ders_"!) and one time, a frog, that kind of just leapt out of the front pocket of her overall, this small, green terrified frog that kind of landed on Mommy R.'s chest and she kept screaming and screaming and screaming as I tried not to laugh so much and Mommy S. kind of was doing the same as she tried to grab the frog from Mommy R.'s shirt. The frog kind of found itself inside Mommy R.'s shirt and I'm pretty sure Mommy S. was having a grand old time groping Mommy S. as Blue sits back to watch her handiwork in satisfaction, giggling the whole time, and Mommy R. was telling Mommy S., "Will you just _stop_ copping a feel and try to get the frog out?!"

One time, the naughty little kid finds a small toy, rubber frog and she'd had Mommy S. buy it for her, and one time, during dinner, Blue takes the frog out and tosses it at Mommy R.'s plate and the look on Mommy R.'s face is priceless. It so surprises Mommy R. she kind of jumps up and starts to scream until Blue and Mommy S. start laughing and I start snickering and she stops and glares at us and we all shut up and she looks at Mommy S. and asks, "Really, Santana? Really?" And Mommy S. looks at Blue and says, "Blue made me do it." Mommy R. kind of just sits back down and plucks the toy frog out of her plate and says, "Oh, sure, blame the three year old, that's mature. You are so sleeping on the couch tonight", which makes me laugh in turn but then Mommy S. glares at me and I shut up and just look down at my food and start stuffing myself with mashed potatoes. But then I steal a glance at the Moms and Mommy S. is pulling Mommy R. closer and apologizing and whispering something in her ear that has Mommy R. smiling and blushing and I put my fork and knife down and announce, "_Eeww_, you guys, I'm trying to eat here. Gross. Get a room!"

We kind of got a puppy as well - finally! It's so annoying that Blue had to come along before we get a puppy finally. But it's our own house, so yay! We get to do stuff like that, so take that, landlord in Brooklyn! Hamsters got old anyway. I found out they eat their young. Eeww. I thought polar bears were cool, too, but they eat their young, which…again…gross. Hey, did you know starfish are bisexual? And they can reproduce on their own? Is it starfish or starfishes? Wait. Have to ask Mommy R. about that. She's pretty good with grammar and stuff.

Anyway, Blue wanted a puppy so we went to the animal shelter and we looked at a bunch of puppies and adult dogs but Blue found this really cute three-legged dog with long ears and a thin body and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the dog and that's the dog we got. One of its ears kind of has a cut and stuff, too. I think she likes the dog because just like her, the dog's kind of missing something, too. The animal shelter guy says the pup lost one of his legs to frostbite when he was abandoned somewhere when he was a puppy. We adore the little guy. We've tried to call him Tripod, but Blue insists he should be called "Kurt" and we've tried to stop her from naming him that by trying to call him Tripod, but she keeps calling him Kurt and the name _stuck_. But once you hear Kurt the puppy bark, you'll understand why. It's this annoying, high-pitched whine that kind of just grates on the nerves. And also, Kurt the puppy also kind of has thick, dirty-white, light brownish fur and he kind of walks around in a shimmy, swayish kind of way that kind of reminds me a bit of Uncle Kurt, too, especially when he follows Blue around.

I cannot begin to tell you how upset Uncle Kurt was knowing Blue had named yet another animal after him. As he stood there, shocked and horrified, as Blue kept calling Kurt the puppy, "Kurt, _Kurt!_" and we were all trying to keep straight faces, Mommy S. had cleared her throat and said, "At this point, you should just be flattered our kids keep naming animals after you."

"Your kids are spawns of Satan," Kurt says now, in a huff, before he turns to me and says, "No offense, Suzie."

I grin and say, "None taken, Uncle Kurt."

Uncle Kurt was a real trooper about all of it though, and once he got used to the idea of a dog named after him, and realized that Kurt the puppy was just too, too cute, he kind of started warming up the dog.

We've kind of ended up having a talking parrot, too, who can only say stuff like, "Hello, girlfriend", or "Hell, to the no", or "Oh, no, he didn't", "Wassup?" and "Bros before hos" that kind of had Blue in stitches, so we ended up having a parrot as well. We ended up naming that one "Barbra" and that really annoyed Mommy R. but it's hilarious. So it's Babs and Kurt for us, now. Kurt has his own doghouse at the back, and Babs has his own cage in the back as well.

Did I mention Bluebear loves music?

Anyway, Blue likes to listen to different kinds of music. She obviously likes her Disney, but she doesn't like Broadway or whatever like we do, which kind of disappointed Mommy R. to no end because I know Mommy R. kind of made Blue listen to Barbara songs against her will when she was in the womb - I suspect that's the reason Bluebear hates it whenever Barbra Streisand is played on the stereo. She even likes classical music.

Grandpa Berrys (I've resorted to calling them that because one time I called Grandpa H., Mr. Berry, he kind of had this look on his face that I couldn't explain and he said, "Uh…please…call me grandpa…I don't mind…" and what he said gave Mommy R. this look that I, in turn, couldn't describe, too!) and _Abuelo_ and _Abuela_, during that housewarming party, that one time, they started playing music, and Grandpa L. started playing Broadway and Opera and _Abuela_ started playing Latino music. I'd been carrying Bluebear that time - she likes being carried, even though she can perfectly stand or whatever, but anyway, I notice she listens attentively each time they play music, and she seemed to enjoy it, and when _Abuelo_ and Grandpa H. started playing classical music, Blue kind of just sits in _Abuela's_ lap, mesmerized, silent, listening to the music, as Grandpa H. says, "Uh…I think classical music is really good because…"

Anyway, no one notices it but then later, Blue insists on having the music playing and it's really awesome she likes classical music, but if I have to listen to Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture" one more freaking time, I'm going to scream. She calls Tchaikovsky, "Kofsky!" and really loves it when Uncle Dave comes because she calls him, "Unca Kofsky!" Anyway, when she wants to listen to Tchaikovsky, she just screams, "Kofsky!" and we start playing it. Lately she's discovered Beethoven, which _Abuelo_ and Grandpa H. also really dig, so now it's Kofsky! And "Hooven"! She really likes Symphony Number Nine - which, okay, she has good taste, but still - waking up to that is really not something you want to start the day with. So yeah, between the world music and the classical music, and the puppy and the parrot, it's like an animal house at Maple Drive, I tell you.

Sure, I stay in the attic - I got dibs on that, but still, it's so loud that I think it's waking up the whole Buckingham Ave neighborhood!

The only time we can make her stop listening to very, very loud classical or Disney music or whatever is when she lets the Moms sing. Strangely enough, Blue likes the oldies or jazzy stuff more than the newer, pop songs. I swear she has like an old soul or something (although Mommy S. I'm like the old soul, because I seemed to have sprung from the womb all mature and stuff. And I was so quiet when I was a toddler, she says. I guess that's because Mommy B. had been sick and she'd passed away and that was hard for both Mommy S. and me. I kind of started being talkative around the time Mommy S. and Mommy R. got together). Blue really loves it when Mommy S. sings stuff like Stevie Wonder (she likes Mommy S.'s version of "Knocks Me Off My Feet" and "Overjoyed") or some Norah Jones ("Those Sweet Words" never fail to make Blue and Mommy R. smile) and sometimes they add some jazzy Basia and Patti Austin and Blue really loves it when Mommy S.'s sings Patti Austin's version of "It Might Be You", especially the last part, where Mommy S. would be looking at Mommy R. and singing "And it's telling me it might be you, all of my life…"

Blue sometimes sings that song, especially the first part, except instead of singing, "_Time, I've been passing time, watching trains go by"_, she'd sing, _"Gaaas…I been passing gaaas…watching twains go by…"_ that makes us all stare at her and make faces before we kind of burst out laughing to Blue's annoyance.

Blue also likes "Feels Like Home" by Chantal Kreviazuk and "Don't Throw it All Away" by Jennifer Love Hewitt. Yes, I know the titles of the songs, okay? Both my parents sing, it's inevitable. We have a large MP3 collection on our hard drive and stack of CDs and some collector LPs that have been kept well away from Blue because Blue had gotten hold of one Barbra Streisand LP and promptly played with it, scratching it and using it as a flying saucer, much to Mommy S. amusement and Mommy R.'s horror. Mommy R. once said, "Oh, my god, I gave birth to the devil's spawn" and it makes us all laugh. "Should have kept your Babs LPs away from Blue, babe," Mommy S. says, but I don't think she's particularly heartbroken over the loss of Barbra LPs. Apparently, Mommy R. had a phase where she used to have a shrine to Barbra Streisand and stuff. I am made to believe that this was before I was born, so that's good. I think Mommy S. made her promise, before they moved in together, that the Barbra Streisand craze would be toned down a notch, and that the shrine would have to go. Mommy R. must really love her because she agreed to the request.

Did I already tell you we've got a new house?

Yep, we did. It's pretty freaking awesome. Yeah, that's the other thing that came together for us, too.

Sure, it's kind of a bit old, and we joke that it's a cross between a horror story house and the house from Psycho and stuff, but it's ours and that's awesome. It's this kind of old house (1970s? 1980s?) that's already been restored, and stuff. But once we fixed it up a bit, repainted it, and stuff, it actually looks really pretty. The Moms got a really sick deal out of it, so there's that! I wasn't sure we'd even have the money for that, judging from how Mommy R. and Mommy S. agonized over buying it, but it was a bargain deal anyway, and Mommy R. had said if we didn't get it, we'd never get a deal like that again, so.

We'd actually been living in a small apartment when we'd just moved here, but then Mommy R. spotted it and showed it to Mommy S. and the rest just followed.

The owner just wants to get rid of it before he goes off to retire and the Moms weren't sure about buying it and they kept going back and forth, with the owner but then one time, they went to meet up with the owner and brought Blue with them and I don't know, they came back with a brand new home. There was a moment when Mommy S. started panicking (new home owner's buyer's anxiety and stuff) because of the payments they're going to do all the time, but I hadn't even known the Moms (especially Mommy R.) had that kind of money lying around for the down payment which they'd shared on and it's pretty awesome. It's quite a steal though. It's cheap and affordable and it's in a nice neighborhood, in the western part of Albany, on Buckingham Ave, and the street's child-friendly and that's always nice, and it's within walking distance of parks and the lake so that's always cool. It's actually the same as renting anyway, except at the end, we get the house, after the payments are done. I've told the Moms since Blue and I are inheriting the house when they grow old anyway, that I'm just going to buy it from them instead of inheriting it, because I seriously want to skip the inheritance tax that goes with it (yes, the joys of having a lawyer mom, I know about stuff like that). And Mommy S. is like, if you don't shut up you're not going to get any in our will and I just laugh.

If there's one thing that could best describe the house, I guess you could call it quaint? We're pretty happy and proud of it. Especially the Moms. I guess because having a house together really cements their relationship together? After the wedding and marriage and the having the baby together, a house is the logical next step, obviously. I'm happy for them. I think it's awesome.

Anyway, we had kind of a housewarming party and everyone (and when I mean everyone, it's the Moms' old friends and the families on both sides) was complaining about how far it is now, but they kind of warmed up to the house. As everyone hadn't seen us and was looking to have an excuse to come visit, a housewarming slash party seemed as good as any, although the grandpa Berrys and the Lopez grandparents were complaining that the Moms actually moved _farther_ away from Ohio and not nearer, but I think they actually don't mind, because Albany is a bit safer than Brooklyn I guess? And they don't have to worry about Red October or whatever. Mommy S. had invited the Pierce grandparents, but they couldn't come. I visit them once in a while, like during school break or whatever, but sometimes, they get weird and teary-eyed when they see me. Especially the last time I went for a visit. Grandma Pierce kind of just took one look at me and her eyes kind of started welling up with tears and I asked her if she was okay and she said she was and that she just had something in her eye and I didn't know why, but then Grandpa Pierce doesn't say anything but shows me a picture of Mommy Britt at my age and I kind of understand why. I kind of look like a very tanned version of Mommy B. now, at least in Grandma Pierce's eyes. And I've grown my hair long and it falls on waves on my shoulders, and it's blonde with streaks of light brown and I see Mommy B.'s eyes and they're a bit like mine, too. And I've got Mommy B.'s height and build as well, I don't think I'm as tall as her, but I'm definitely taller than Mommy R. now, and like a couple of inches taller than Mommy S. I think that's one of the reasons why they stopped grounding me - it's just a bit weird to ground a person who's taller than you and looks more like an adult now.

Anyway, during the houseblessing, Uncle Mike went around throwing salt and rice for good luck and to drive away the bad spirits or whatever, as per Aunt Tina's, who's away on some business, instructions and _Abuela_ insisted there be some Catholic priest to bless the house and stuff. But it was all good. Good thing Albany has a good Catholic and Jewish population, so there's plenty of religion to go around.

During the housewarming slash blessing, I caught Mommy S. talking to Grandpa H., and I hadn't caught the entire conversation, but I heard Mommy S. thanking Grandpa H. for the help and that she'll, _they'll_ make it up to them as soon as the firm gets going, but Grandpa H. was shaking his head and saying, "No, no, it's alright, you don't need to do that. Rachel asked us to help out and we were more than happy to help and where were we going to put all that money anyway?" And I see Mommy S. shaking her head and insisting on something, but Grandpa H. would shake his head in turn and after a while, Grandpa H. says, "Fine, if you insist, but you can take your time with it. Like…when you have great-grandchildren of your own or something. There's no real rush."

Then I see Mommy R. talking to _Abuelo_ and it's a similar conversation and I start to wonder what's going on, but then sometimes, adults still don't tell me all this stuff, so I'm just glad the grandparents helped out in whatever it is that needed some helping out.

The rest of the Moms' friends were there, too.

So, as I told you, Uncle Mike was there, without Aunt Tina. Their kids opted to stay back in Cali, so.

Aunt Mercedes had come as well. She was on the verge of signing some kind of record deal or other but had some verbal altercation or other with the producer over how the album cover was going to be (she's a bit on the conservative side, I guess).

And Uncle Sam was there, too. He comes for a visit sometimes, and we watch movies with him. He has this thing now where he wears stuff that Uncle Kurt _designs_. And that's stuff that's jeans that are so tiny they might as well be painted on, or scarves or tight tee shirts or gay hats or something. And airplane brooches. And terrified pink flamingos on his shirt. The only thing that could top that is Uncle Kurt wearing stuff like, a skeleton shirt and skeleton tights with a little skull brooch as an accessory.

Anyway, we're doing a Nicolas Cage movie marathon next time Uncle Sam comes and it's going to be awesome. We're going to choose our favorite Nicolas Cage movie. It's so hard to choose though, because I know Nicolas Cage is on a mission to _star in every known movie known to humankind_, so that's like five movies in a year. Which also means only one in the five movies will be good and the rest will be bad, so. I'm going with Weatherman and Family Man and Matchstick Men because I like it when he plays men. I still can't believe he didn't get to be Superman! That would have been awesome. Whenever we talk about superheroes, we think about how awesome it would have been had it been Nicolas Cage playing Superman - can you imagine all the whispering and shouting and overacting that would have happened? That would inevitably end up being a discussion on the most useless pre-Avengers superhero movie, and we're down to either Ironman part two (Mickey Rourke is just too creepy), Captain America or Thor.

Anyway, Uncle Sam's list has been narrowed down to Con Air, the Rock and Ghost Rider. Mommy R. predictably chose the more artsy ones, like Adaptation and of course, Mommy S. is choosing Kiss of the Spiderman and Moonstruck. I think _Abuelo_ kind of talked her into it. I actually think that's _Abuelo's_ list - because _Abuelo_ does a pretty bad ass impersonation of Nicolas Cage. Uncle Sam's is a bit off. We're doing a Nicolas Cage movie marathon because Uncle Sam insists that while we think movies are all different, the fact of the matter is, movies are, actually, just one big Nicolas Cage movie, even the ones which _doesn't_ have Nicolas Cage in it. Like he was in that "Left Behind" movie that I think Mommy Britt will absolutely like, 'cause she had a phase of liking those books (those books are creepy!) where he plays a man left behind after the rapture and he has to save his daughter, but he'd already done the running amok thing when tries to save his daughter in "Drive Angry" but then I remember there was already a movie of a father trying to save his missing, kidnapped daughter that starred Liam Neeson and I'm like hey! Even the movies that _don't_ have Nicolas Cage in it are, in fact, Nicolas Cage movies. Oh, god, I sound like a geek don't I?! Damn you, Uncle Sam, damn you!

Uncle Sam's cool though. He's always like around when we need somebody handy around or whatever. He helped out with the repainting of the house, and the wallpapering of the rooms and just the general cleaning in general. He likes to help out with the techie stuff, like connecting the computer to the internet or to the printer, or the television to the stereo or whatever, or trouble shooting stuff and he teaches me all that stuff, too. And he's always like giving me stuff to play with - like the new Mass Effect or whatever. He's installed this really sick app in the iPad for Mommy R., it's this virtual piano that you can play and compose music on, and I think Mommy R. is loving it and I've seen her like play stuff on it and I think Uncle Sam is awesome. In fact, one time I caught Mommy R. playing an unfamiliar song on the iPad, in Blue's room, as she tries to put Blue to bed, and I'd just come home for the weekend and I ask her whose song it was because I hadn't heard it before and she surprises me by saying she composed it, on the iPad and it's a song for Blue and I was quite surprised because I didn't even know Mommy R. composed songs and stuff. So yeah. She thought I was going to get jealous, so she tells me she's working on a song about me, too and I smile and I say, she didn't have to do that, but she shakes her head and insists there is one, except it's nowhere near finished and I smile and is it any wonder I love my mother? I've long stopped looking at her as my stepmother. As far as I'm concerned she's as real a mother as Mommy S. and I love her to bits.

Anyway, as for Uncle Sam, he's awesome, except when he's wearing those god-awful stuff. I used to think it was cool, but now I just think they're awful.

Anyway, he tries to entertain Blue when he's around, he makes impersonations, like early and middle Nicolas Cage years, or does stuff Gloria Swanson (who is that?) stuff like, "I'm ready for my close up, Mr. Demille" and Sean Connery and Marlon Brando and he pretends sometimes that he has an Australian brother named Evan and he does a really bad Aussie accent and Blue and I stare at him and he says, in resignation, "I used to think I was funny. But both of you have proven me wrong. Thank you." He does do a pretty hilarious impersonation of a hotdog in a bun that makes Blue dissolve in giggles, though.

So as I mentioned, he'd installed some kickass virtual piano software on the iPad and he was showing Mommy R. how to work it, and he'd started playing the first strains of John Lennon's "Imagine" and as he does so, Aunt Mercedes suddenly starts singing the song, and surprises us when she starts signing the song, to Blue's delight. Then Mommy R. follows, then Mommy S., then Uncle Mike, Uncle Sam and it kind of surprises me and later, Mommy R. told me they had done the same song in high school, complete with sign language. I don't know if Blue understood all of it, but I can tell you she was delighted the adults and The Parents were singing and signing at the same time.

After that is finished, and the Grandpas and _Abuelo_ and _Abuela_ and the others reward Mommy R. and Mommy S. and the others with applause, it encourages Uncle Sam to play a couple of other songs, so he plays U2's "One" and when Mommy R. starts to sing it and belt it out, even when she has to sing it at a lower register because of her damaged pipes, it's very obvious why she's a Broadway Star - she really has awesome Broadway pipes. Then Uncle Sam finishes with "Seasons of Love" and Mommy R. and the others start to sing and it was kind of awesome, too. The perks of having singer-parents who have friends who sing as well - you get front row seats to some awesome singing. The downside? You get front row seats to some awesome singing. Whether you like to or not.

Just kidding.

Uncle Kurt was there for the blessing, too. He comes by for a visit sometimes, sometimes with Uncle Dave, sometimes not. I don't know what's happening with those two, but they seem busy. Uncle Dave's been busy helping out with Mommy R's Foundation in Brooklyn. Mommy R's Foundation kind of made headway, the NY Department of Education has decided to absorb the framework and paradigm that Mommy R's foundation stands for and they're going to replicate it in other states, so that's cool. And Uncle Dave's got a famous youth-oriented channel to partner with the Foundation, so that's more exposure and funding and stuff, so that's cool. Mommy R's still founder and president of the board of directors but Uncle Dave's now running the show, so.

Aunt Quinn couldn't come then, but she comes by for a visit once in a while, too. But since she's busy with her restaurant and stuff, we kind of just Skype nowadays, so. But she's doing okay, too. She's still looking pretty hot, even for her age, with her long, blonde hair and the two kids she's had. Aidann and Uncle Jeffrey came with her as well. Aidann's about eleven now, and is quite the little tow-headed but incredibly shy looker as well, not like Blue, who seems to love the attention everyone is showering her. Not that I mind. Anyway, so Aunt Q's still looking hot. And she still looks kind of amusing when she raises one eyebrow, or when she says something snarky to her friends - she still looks so cool doing it. Even with the slight limp she has when she walks, she still looks so bad ass. I heard she survived some freak car accident in high school or something. I think she's a pretty strong woman. She kind of remains a mystery to me, and the Moms don't talk about their friends in front of me, unless it's to tell me that Aunt Q. or Uncle Sam or whoever says hi or something. But I find Aunt Q. fascinating.

But obviously not as fascinating as you, okay? I adore you.

I think I already told you I had a bit of a crush on Aunt Q. growing up. Which you will take with you to the grave. No way I want anyone knowing that, except you. But why wouldn't anyone have a crush on Aunt Q.? I think she was my first lady crush.

Anyway, the house is great. But the toilet bowl's much like the toilet bowl in _Abuelo_ and _Abuela's _house - which is to say, sometimes, steam rises out of the bowl. And when somebody flushes the toilet bowl, and somebody's taking a shower, the shower dies, or the hot shower becomes a cold shower, and Blue once figured that out when Mommy R. had been taking a shower (don't worry, all the toilet bowls have child safety locks - I had a grand old time watching Uncle Sam trying to open the toilet bowls before I took pity on him and opened it for him) and whenever she sees a toilet bowl she gets this evil glint in her face and reaches for the flush and flushes it and when somebody starts screaming, you know the shower's acting up and that Blue had something to do with it, especially since she has this evil glint in her eye and she's giggling so much it's making her face turn red.

Mommy R. and Mommy S. bought a new bed for their bedroom because there was an old one in it that kind of crashed on them in the middle of the night, but I seriously think the bed kind of couldn't take the abuse they were giving it while they were having sexy times or something. I heard the thud in the night (Blue, predictably, slept through it), it was quite distinctive, but I kind of wisely waited to see if anything was going to come of it, like if they needed help or whatever, because I seriously don't want to walk in on the Moms buck naked and stuff (and also because, _eeww_) but they seemed okay so I kind of just…stayed in the attic. Anyway, we all trooped to the furniture shop the next day to buy a new one and I kind of teased them and told the salesclerk to "Please get my Moms the extra durable, extra strength, stainless steel, kind of bed. Extra springy. And not noisy", with an extremely soft, equally durable mattress, that had Mommy R. blushing and Mommy S. glaring at me and the clerk not knowing what to do. hahah!

So, the house is pretty much like the one we had in Brooklyn - it just has a bigger living room, a small kitchen, a second floor with two beds (the Moms' bedroom, which is bigger and Blue's) and an attic and a small basement. Blue's going through that phase where she prefers to sleep with the Moms, to Mommy S.'s annoyance (especially when she accidentally wets the bed) but I think Blue can figure out sometimes when she's worn out her welcome, so she goes to her room again, presses on the intercom and calls me, "Zie-zie, come here!" I swear, she is the most spoiled kid ever! Anyway, so she ends up sleeping in my bed instead. Don't worry, all the stairs have child rails and stuff, so she doesn't fall off the stairs or something. The Moms have been trying to potty train her, but it's been hard, but she's slowly getting it, although it's a battle of wits between Mommy R. and Blue every time. Kind of like that time when Mommy R. was trying to wean Blue from the breastfeeding, there were some few tense moments between them. But that turned out alright in the end.

So we have our own kitchen, and since Mommy S. has more time now, she tries to cook for us, but it hasn't been good. One time, I got home to Mommy R. with the fire extinguisher, trying to put out the fire Mommy S. has caused when she tried to cook burgers for us. The burgers came out burnt and rubbery and _weird_. Yeah, I tried to taste it. It was awful.

I'm not allowed to cook as well. Once, I tried to make grilled cheese sandwiches for me and Blue and Mommy S. and R. saw me making them and banned me from making cheese sandwiches that way. I'm also banned from the iron, foil and stuff.

I thought it was creative. I kind of just prepared the sandwich the regular way, wrapped them in foil and ironed them. I hadn't even noticed the Moms coming in (I was babysitting Blue as they went out for dinner), because I had the stereo on full blast, playing "I'm Gonna Be (Five Hundred Miles)" by the Proclaimers, with Blue and I singing the song very, very badly and very, very loudly as I ironed the sandwiches, thus, _"But I would walk five hundred miles and I would five hundred more…Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles to fall down at your door…"_ We were doing the _"Da-da-da-da"_ part of the song when the Moms came in.

Mommy R. had looked on in horror as she grabbed the iron from me, to my protest. Mommy S. was too busy laughing.

To be fair, they were probably right to ban me from cooking until I've employed more conventional methods. One time, they caught me making mashed potatoes in the kitchen by putting the chopped, diced boiled potatoes on the kitchen counter, and with goggles on (and Blue wearing her goggles too, and standing to one side, watching me), and with a large strainer type of thing, I whack the potatoes as hard as I can and the potatoes bits fly around us in a mess and just when the Moms come in, bits of potatoes land on their clothes and Blue erupts in uncontrollable giggles as Mommy R. declares that I am as incorrigible as Mommy S. and I laugh and apologize.

The awesome thing about turning eighteen is I don't get grounded anymore. So I didn't get grounded for that. I just got banned. Haha! I don't care though - Blue seems to like it. Mommy R. - being the obsessive compulsive mother that she is, has kind of prepared like a complete sort of manual slash checklist for Blue and one of that is food. Mommy R. is encouraging Blue to be as healthy as she can be, and so we are always expected to make healthy food choices for Blue, minimize her fastfood intake, ban television and computer games (although the iPad and mobile phones are fair game) and exercise as much as she can - so she is allowed to run around in the front and back yard as long as there is an adult present supervising her. Mommy R. had given us a very lengthy rundown on fastfood and quoted Eric Schlosser's "Fastfood Nation" and made us watch "Supersize Me" and rattled off statistics on how America's children are the most obese in the world and she says it's a testament to her (and Mommy S.'s) parenting abilities - that I didn't turn out obese as well. I am wont to point out that Mommy S. and Mommy B. are both kind of slim and very health conscious, too, so that's probably one of the reasons as well, but there's no stopping Mommy R. when she's being like this, so we just let her do that. Anyway, so the rule is, Blue should always have lots of color in her food, lots of green and yellow and red, and Mommy R. spends a lot of time making food really attractive for Blue - carrots are shaped into stars and flowers, potatoes into trees or whatever and so on. It's worked nicely though.

I think Mommy R. really enjoys staying at home, although I think she might get bored sometimes, or impatient, because she's been the stay-at-home wife for three years now. But she's been making good use of her time, baking and trying out new recipes and stuff like that. She's getting good with the baking, I think. Last time she tried to bake gingerbread men, they kind of came out petrified, literally and figuratively. They even had the eyebrows to match it. The soufflé she once made kind of sunk into itself and looked so forlorn we felt so sorry just trying to eat it. She's made some headway with the cookies though, which Blue has made it her life's mission to steal anytime she gets. Mommy R. has tried to bake a cake for Blue once, for her second birthday, but that hadn't come out well. Blue only loved the icing, and she'd smeared herself with it. We kind of just ended up ordering cake down the street, so.

Anyway, I'm so glad you're coming to Albany to study, too, by the way. As much as I was bummed to be moving out of Brooklyn and leaving friends behind, the fact of the matter is, it hasn't been the same without you and I'm really excited you're coming. I've told the Moms and they've automatically told me there's no way we're moving in together to an off-campus residence until at least we're twenty one, even though it's practical. Mommy R. says we're too young for that commitment, Mommy S. was more blunt and says she thinks we're just going to have sex all the time - I told her I'm pretty sure you're just going to make me study all the time and you want us to take it slow and not be serious yet and all that…although at this point, Kate, I think it's safe to say you're it for me…I don't know why, but I've seen what's out there, and I don't think I want to let this fish go.

Oh crap, I just compared you to a fish, didn't I?

Sorry.

Anyway, so I tell Mommy S. "But Mom, wasn't that what you guys used to do the first time you got together? And until now really…"

And then Mommy R. blushes.

And Mommy S. says, "Oh, my god, Suzie, you're never going to let us live that down aren't you? That was the one time!"

And I say, "That was never just the one time, Mom…" which makes Mommy R. blush even more.

Anyway, I just say that to see the Moms squirm, especially Mommy R - that's always priceless. She blushes all the time, so it's always hilarious when she does that.

One time, I got home earlier than usual and I forgot to kind of make my presence known and I kind of just went up to the second floor and no one was around and I kind of heard some noises in my parents' room and believe me when I say they are _not_ the kind of noises parents should be making in the middle of the day - or _ever_. I could swear I was hearing Mommy R. moaning. There might have been muffled gasping involved. It was exactly like listening to a radio adaptation of "50 Shades of Grey", but with all the clunky, and really useless dialogue taken out, and then just the noises. It was gross. They've always tried to be quiet and considerate and stuff and I don't think they've actually been caught before, except for that one time before Blue was born. Anyway, I kind of just went down and pretended to nap on the couch and they went down after, looking a bit guilty when they see me on the couch and I kind of smirk because I spy what appears to be hickies on Mommy R.'s neck but then I spot some on Mommy S.'s neck as well which…_eeeww_…

I swear those two can't keep their hands off of each other. Which. _Eeeww._ Parents are gross.

Although it's kind of awesome, too, because they've been married six years but they've been together eleven years now, and I think that's pretty awesome that they can't keep their hands off each other, because you hear about bed death and the seven year itch and stuff (although maybe they've gone through it and I've missed it?) but still. _Eeeww._

They kind of just celebrated their sixth wedding anniversary actually. Last spring. I bought them some spa tickets and Mommy S. made dinner reservations for them at the Marriot or something? And I agreed to babysit Blue and I don't know what they did but they were gone for a bit. I kind of fell asleep with Blue in my arms in my room in the attic and only woke up when I felt Blue being lifted off my chest and realized it was Mommy S. standing in front of me, with Mommy R. beside her. Mommy R. had smiled and whispered, "Hey, sorry it took us so long. You guys okay?" I'd just nodded sleepily as Mommy R. took Blue from Mommy S. and they'd both kissed me good night and left my room. Yes, they sometimes kiss me good night, still. Leave me alone.

Since Empire State is close to home I can stay in the dorm for the week and spend the weekends at the Moms - which is pretty sweet because I can bring home the laundry and Mommy R. helps me with that and I get awesome home cooked meals and Mommy S. cross-examines me on my grades and stuff and Mommy R. leaves us to it until Mommy S. turns up the heat and acts all lawyer-ly and stuff and says stuff like… "You didn't study for your class, did you? Did you? Did you? Admit it, you were partying and doing a lot of underage drinking" which is kind of hilarious in hindsight but is kind of freaky when you realize it's Mommy S. doing the whole courtroom thing to her daughter.

Okay, I'm a bit sleepy now. I'll email you soon. Take care and keep in touch.

Sweet dreams, Katie.

Suzie

PS

What about you, by the way? What's your favorite Nicolas Cage movie?

* * *

Hey Kate,

So sorry for the late reply.

I've been busy, but I'm glad you liked the lengthy reply I gave you. Yes, I'm not working too hard, yes, I'm getting enough sleep, yes, I'm studying hard, yes, I'm not letting the extracurricular activities get in the way of my studies, no, I haven't met anyone new, yes, I've been being very nice to the roommate, yes the Moms and Blue are doing fine and yes, they can't wait to see you. Yes, I apologized to the Empire State Shakers for that asshole/nipple logo I designed. Yes, I'm being very nice to Vanderbilt, no, I haven't been bullying anyone. No, I haven't been teaching Blue inappropriate words (Spanish or otherwise) and no, I haven't been reading Fifty Shades or any other inappropriate book to Blue. Yes, we're taking good care _not_ to lose Blue again next time we go to Walmart or Costco's. Yes, Aunt Q. was my first lady crush, we've been through this. Yes, I haven't had sex in a while, can you tell? Don't tease me like that, you're being mean. Between school and practice and studying and working at Dean and De Luca and hanging out with friends and the family, I barely have time to hook up with anyone. We've been through this. I love you. Yes, I still adore you, I think that goes without saying. Sorry about the too much information about the Parents. I couldn't resist. I adore them. Yes, the Parents, Blue, Kurt and Babs are doing fine, thank for asking.

Yes, I can't wait to see you. What kind of question is that? But if it's making you uncomfortable, we don't need to hang out. I mean you're in SUNY, I'm in Empire State, anyway. If you still just want to be friends, that's fine. If you want us to keep seeing other people until we're old enough and legal enough to buy alcoholic drinks on our own, that's fine. You're still my best friend, K, please remember that. Although I'd def be weirded out if you start dating other people and you start introducing them to me, ugh. That's going to be weird, seriously. So let's agree that you're not going to do that, okay?

Anyway, I've got to go now, have got to work and going home to the Moms and Blue later.

PS Figures your favorite Nicolas Cage movie is "City of Angels". [smiley face]

* * *

Hey Kate,

Thanks for coming over for dinner. Did you get home alright?

I know I can just text you, 'cause you're here now, but I wanted to email you, too, because I'm a dork like that. I'm so bummed you had some homework to do. You could have totally stayed the night. I'd sleep with Blue and you can take my bed in the attic. And then I'd just sneak into the room and you know…haha! Just kidding.

So…are we dating…? Again? Like for serious?

Because I'm confused.

I wish girls came with manuals.

Like those Ikea furniture that Mom tried to assemble and never got to.

Or those cheap stroller type stuff that she bought that had Chinese instructions on it and no one, not even the smartest man in the world, could have assembled that in the Chinese to English translations that the stroller came with.

* * *

K,

So we're dating again, yes?

You're officially like, my girlfriend now? Like, again. And stuff?

Awesome!

P.S. I love you. Like, a lot. Like very, very much.

P.P.S. The Moms are very happy for us, by the way.

Life is beautiful.

[smiley face]

* * *

_**A/N:**_

_**That's it for this chapter! Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**_

_**There will be a few more chapters, and this story is done. Not to worry, there are still some stories brewing. I'm actually taking a bit of a break after this chap to work on a couple of other stories and then back to this story we go! It's not going to be long, though, so not to worry!**_

_**Yes, people if you recognize some scenes here, it's a mash-up, modified combo of a lot of different things, inspired by awesome classic Robin Williams, Johnny Depp and Steve Martin feel-good movies and some family movies, Adrian Mole, Judy Blume's Margaret, even "MegaMind", "Despicable Me", every other young adult novel I've ever read, my beta and my own experiences and everything in between. And also, does anyone remember "Felicity"? - one of the more accurate depictions of college, I dare say. But then again, J.J. Abrams has always been a better storyteller than Ryan Murphy, so there's that. The others are mine. **_**;)**

_**And yes, those excerpts are really from "50 Shades of Grey". I couldn't resist. It's too funny.**_

_**Again, many thanks to DragonsWillFly for going over this.**_

_**Also, I've always loved "(I'm gonna be) 500 Miles" way before "Pitch Perfect" made it famous, because early Johnny Depp, as Buster Keaton, pre-Pirates.**_**:) **_**Although I can't tell you how awesome it was that I heard that song again in "Pitch Perfect".**_

_**Now on to your comments:**_

_**To melovepezberry - Hey! Glad you loved Chapter 9! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you liked this chapter, too!**_

_**To kutee - Hey! So happy you liked Chapter 9. Hope you like this chapter, too! Cheers!**_

_**To Bahcan - Hi. Thanks for reading and reviewing Chapter 9. Hope you liked this chapter, too!**_

_**To wicked - Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you liked this chapter, too!**_


	11. Part 3: Transcendence - Music is Life

**_"All boundaries between sound and noise are just conventions…_**

**_All boundaries are just conventions, waiting to be transcended."_**

**"_Cloud Atlas"_**

* * *

_**[Dear Ms. Rachel Berry-Lopez, **_

_**Warmest greetings!**_

_**I hope this finds you well. **_

_**As promised, please find attached the rough cut of the project tentatively titled "Music is Life". Thanks to the internet, jumpstart dot com and the joys of crowd funding, I was able to put this together on a shoestring budget just in time for (hopefully) release. **_

_**At this point, may I again extend my sincerest thanks to you and your family for allowing me to tell your story and for letting me show it to the world. I think your family is extraordinary and inspiring to say the least and I am proud that in my own little way I can bring this inspiration to the world in this way. As such, you will perhaps notice that I have changed the title from the original "Big Blue's Next Opus" because as I was editing it, a different story started to take shape. Your story has taken me in a different direction - your story, that of your family, the Foundation, the kids you helped and how it all goes back to your own high school, all tied together with your love of music, the strong love and bond you share with your family, the love of music that, in turn, inspired and amazed and produced possibilities - reflected a strong interconnectedness of events that, in turn, has changed everyone else's lives. This seemed a more compelling direction than anything else.**_

_**I have tried, as much as possible, to be as accurate and truthful, never losing sight of what drew me to this project in the first place. Many thanks for sharing your time, your insights and for sharing family photos, home videos and so on of your family for this project. **_

_**As we have discussed, this will not be released without your approval. **_

_**I hope you like this. I hope I have done justice to your story. **_

_**Happy viewing!**_

_**Sincerely yours, **_

_**Luna Later**_

_**Watermelon Studios]**_

* * *

_**[Scene: Brooklyn, New York. Fall. Shot of trees, leaves falling, brown brick buildings, broken windows, trash on the streets, broken glass on the pavement, bums sleeping in front of doorsteps, teenagers in jeans and jackets walking along the streets, shots of different faces, different hairstyles, hair colors, shots of crowds, graffiti, the subway, hotdog stands, kids chatting and laughing on the streets, kids dancing to hip hop beats on the side of the street, cut to a huge, simple brick building, where a few young people go in. Next shot: Gowns, lapels, ribbons and tuxes being straightened, polished shoes, bodies stretching, hands flexing, camera pulling away to reveal a modest dressing room, mirrors with lights on them, curtains, people moving around, and a couple of people with headsets going around, checking to make sure everything and everyone is in order.]**_

_**[Cut to the edge of the dressing room, where three people, two older women, both in formal gowns, one taffeta, the other a black gown, one a Hispanic-looking woman, taller, with a fierce look on her face, the other, shorter, Jewish, both beautiful, and a young woman, perhaps five foot three or four, with short, black hair in a suit, who bears a striking resemblance to both of them, nervously talking to them. The younger woman is Sarah Elizabeth Blue Berry Lopez, better known as Blue Berry Lopez, and her parents, Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez.]**_

Blue: I'm so nervous, mom.

Rachel: You'll be fine.

Santana: If you're nervous, what do you think I feel? I haven't sung in _years_. And the only kind of singing I've done thus far has only been in karaoke bars.

Blue _**[Laughs]**_: There's a first time for everything, Mom.

Santana: I can't believe I let you both talk me into this. What if they don't like me? What if they hate me? What if they start throwing eggs in my direction?

Rachel: Honey, why would they throw eggs at you? You're gorgeous. And you have a wonderful voice. A little out of practice, but wonderful.

Santana _**[Scowls at Rachel]**_: Thanks, baby. Really.

Rachel: Besides, this isn't about you, it's about Blue, okay? I can't believe you've managed to let this all about you so early tonight.

Santana: Comes from living with you baby since…_forever_.

_**[Rachel glares at Santana.] **_

Rachel _**[To Blue]**_: You know honey, if you're nervous, it's a Broadway tradition for novice performers to take a shot of whiskey to calm their nerves. In that tradition, I've kept a flask of whiskey in my stylish yet affordable handbag just for these kinds of situation.

_**[Rachel takes out the flask from her bag and offers it to Blue, who is just staring at her incredulously, surprised. Santana promptly grabs the flask from her and takes a swig from it.]**_

Blue: Um, thanks, but no thanks, Mom.

_**[Santana hands the flask back to Rachel. Rachel automatically accepts it and takes a little swig of the flask before replacing the cap and putting it back in her bag. Rachel turns and reaches out a hand to hold Santana's face, rubbing a thumb near Santana's lips. Rachel smiles at Santana before she leans over and plants a soft kiss on Santana's cheek.]**_

Rachel: Honey, you're going to be fine.

Santana: Oh, god, I've been a lawyer my whole life, I haven't sung since high school!

Blue: Mom, it's fine. You've always wanted to sing in front of an audience, right?

Santana _**[Shakes her head]**_: I haven't thought of performing since forever. And I've got lawyers and politicians and people from Congress and CEOs and god-knows-who out there!

Blue: And possibly the Vice President and the President…and the cabinet and…

Santana: Oh, god…

Blue: I think it would be totally awesome if President Martinez made it! She would totally rock the house…!

Rachel: Well, she _is_ a big donor. She grew up in Brooklyn, so.

Santana: Oh, god…I think I'm going to vomit.

Rachel _**[To Blue]**_: Honey, can you give us a sec, please?

_**[Blue nods, steps back and gives her mothers a moment. Camera takes a step back, but the camera still lingers on the couple.] **_

Rachel _**[Turns to Santana, puts her hands on Santana's face, pulls her face towards her, and rests on forehead on Santana's face. They look at each other, seemingly unaware of the noise and chaos that is happening all around them, sharing a quiet moment together. Rachel quietly speaks to her]:**_ Honey, you'll be fine. You can do it. Just…breathe, honey, breathe. In and out, honey…in and out…

_**[Santana starts to breathe in and out rhythmically. Rachel nods.]**_

Rachel: That's it, honey. You're doing great. Now, just close your eyes. _**[Santana closes her eyes]**_ Just…let everything fall away. Let all the stress and nervousness and everything else fall away. There is nothing and no one else here but you and me. Just focus, honey, focus. Open your eyes. _**[Santana's eyes fly open]**_ Honey, you are _exactly_ where you are. You are _exactly_ who you're supposed to be. You are meant to be doing this. And you are going to go out there and sing because you have always been an amazing singer and it's time the world knows about this. You'll be fine, okay? You'll be fine.

_**[Santana is silent for a while before she grins and speaks]**_ That the best you can come up with?

_**[Rachel glares at her as Santana continues to speak]**_ 'Cause that's just _lame_. So lame. _**[Rachel hits her on the arm.]**_ Ow!

Rachel: You are an awful, awful human being.

Santana _**[Grins]**_: You _love_ me. _**[Santana's face grows serious]**_ You're incredible, baby, do you know that?

Rachel _**[Grins]**_: I know.

Santana: Also incredibly modest. I love you, Rachel.

Rachel _**[Grins]**_: I love you, too.

_**[As they embrace and kiss each other, there is a disgusted snort that emanates from behind the camera. Camera turns to reveal Blue rolling her eyes. Blue speaks to her mothers.] **_Ugh. Get a room, you guys! _**[Turns to the camera as the couple break away from each other in the background.]**_ My moms can't keep their hands off of each other. Ugh.

_**You don't like it?**_

Blue _**[Stops, thinks about it and grins]**_: Nah, it's cool. We just like to tease them about it. It's just a thing my sister Suzie and I like to tease them about. They've been married almost thirty years, did you know that?

_**No, I can't say that I do.**_

Blue: Yeah, it's kind of amazing.

_**[As the couple embrace again and talk to each other, Blue suddenly speaks up]**_: Did you know that most toilets flush in E flat?

_**[The camera swivels to Blue and Blue looks at the camera, face solemn.]**_

_**I'm sorry?**_

Blue: Did you know that most toilets flush in E flat?

_**I can't say that I do, sorry. But now I do, so.**_

Blue: Well, they do.

_**I didn't know toilets can be musical, too.**_

[As the camera swivels back to the couple talking in whispers away from the camera, Blue speaks up] Yeah, it's kind of awesome. _**[Blue pauses, off-camera, before she speaks up again]**_ Um…maybe we can give my moms some privacy?

_**Sorry…?**_

Blue: My moms…give them some privacy…please…Miss Later. I know we agreed you'd do a documentary on my family and stuff, and that's totally cool and I totally respect that…but if you could just…kindly…give my moms some time alone please, that would be great…

_**[Camera swivels to Blue.] Sorry.**_

Blue: It's cool. I'm sure my Mommy Rachel is used to the cameras and stuff and Mommy San's had her share of dealing with the media, too, but…yeah…thanks for respecting that.

_**No problem…**_

_**[Silence as camera just focuses on Blue, and turns to video some of the other people backstage.] So, umm…toilets flush in E flat, huh? You like to collect trivia like that?**_

Blue _**[Nods]**_: Yeah. I know, I know it's dorky, but it's kind of cool. Like…did you know this guy Jean-Baptiste Lully was the first musician to use a baton?

_**No.**_

Blue: Yeah, it was this heavy, six-foot-long staff that he pounded on the ground in time to the music.

_**Wow, that sounds…interesting…I guess?**_

Blue: Yeah. One day, at a concert to celebrate the king's return to health, he accidently stuck the staff into his foot.

_**Oh. **_

Blue: Yeah. He developed gangrene and died.

_**Oh. That's…that's…um…unfortunate…**_

_**[Silence. Thankfully, Rachel and Santana come up to rejoin Blue]**_

Rachel: Hi, you guys. Sorry, sorry. We just needed to take a moment and give San a much-needed pep talk. _**[Rachel grins.]**_

_**[A fourth woman, looking a bit like Santana, but taller and with blonde hair, comes by, holding a small child with an unruly Albert Einstein-like shock of curly, dark brown hair in all directions.]**_

Suzie: Hey, Moms! Hey, Baby Blue! I still can't believe you let me name her Blue, Mom. Never gets old.

Blue _**[Glares at Suzie]**_: Shut _up_, Zie-Zie.

Child in Suzie's arms: Auntie Blue! Beans wants a hug! Hug! Hug! Hug!

Blue: Ugh, don't _call_ me that, Beans.

Beans: Hi, Grammy _Waychel_! Grammy _Than_!

_**[Both older women smile as Rachel holds the baby in her arms.]**_

Rachel: Baby. Hello, how are you?

Beans _**[Grins]**_: Okay. Miss you. _Wuv_ you.

Rachel: Aaww, honey, I've missed you, too. Love you, too. You're getting so big, honey _**[Looks at Suzie].**_ I'm glad this one wasn't actually named Beans in her birth certificate.

Suzie: Not like her mom would have let me. She would have killed me.

Blue: Whipped! So whipped!

Rachel and Santana: So whipped!

Suzie: Shut up. Ugh. Get off my case. Don't you have a concert to do or something?

Blue _**[rolls her eyes]**_: Ugh. Don't remind me. Remind me again why I have to do this?

Suzie _**[matter-of-factly]**_: Because it was either this or singing, and you know as well as I do that you can't sing for shit.

Blue: Like _you_ can sing, Zie-zie? Because you know as well as I do you can't sing a lick, too.

Suzie: Oh, _crap_. You're right!

Rachel and Santana: Suzie! Language!

Beans: _Shit! Crap!_

Suzie: Sorry.

Blue _**[Looking at her sister with mock seriousness]**_: You are a bad mother. Scratch that. You're a _terrible_ mother. Strangely enough, it's making me feel better.

Suzie _**[Grins]**_: Glad I could be of service!_** [Turns to Santana] **_Hey, Mom, you look good! So, Mom, this is like…you popping your concert cherry, isn't it? Woohoo!

Santana _**[Closes her eyes]**_: If you could just…not…compare my first real concert to losing my virginity that would be great.

Suzie _**[Grins]**_: Sorry, Mom. _**[Turns to Blue, starts to sing off-key] **_

"_You shut your mouth_

_How can you say?_

_I go about the things the wrong way?_

_I am human and I need to be loved…._

_Just like everybody else does…"_

Blue _**[Grins]**_: Too easy. "How Soon is Now?" By the Smiths. Me!

"_Don't deny your man's desire _

_You'd be a fool to stop this tide _

_Spread your wings and let me come inside 'cause…"_

Suzie: _Waaay_ too easy, little sis. "Tonight's the Night", Rod Stewart. _**[Sings] "**__I made it to the wilderness…"_

Blue: Aaaw, you're not even trying, sis. "Like A Virgin", Madonna. Obviously. Duh. Emphasis on _"Duh"_. I mean, you might as well have been singing Foreigner's "Feels Like the First Time".

Suzie: Fine. How about…

"_I can show you the world…_

_Shining, shimmering, splendid…"_

Blue: Eeeww…Suzie, that's… "A Whole New World", Peabo Bryson and what-ser-face…

Suzie: Come _on_. It totally sounds like it's about…you know…plus Beans and I have been watching it repeatedly…I mean…the lyrics are something like, _"Over, under and sideways"_… I mean, it sounds dirty somehow…Or like that song, "The First Cut is the Deepest" by Rod Stewart or…Natalie Imbruglia's "Torn"…which is definitely about hymens…

Beans _**[Screams, making other people turn and look to where they are]**_: _Hymen! __**[Sings in her childish, off-key voice]**__ "It feels like the first time! Feels like the very first time!"_

Blue _**[Blushing]**_: _Suzie_…

Santana _**[Rolls her eyes]**_: I can't believe one of the first words Beans learns, Suzie, is _hymen_. Also, very funny you guys, very funny. _**[As the sisters start to laugh, Santana continues]**_ I mean, seriously, that's cute. _Really_ cute. I'd ground you both now if I could.

_**[Camera swivels to Rachel and Santana]**_

_**What's going on?**_

Rachel _**[Explains]**_: It's an old game we used to play with Suzie when she was young. We kept the tradition going when Blue came along. It's this song guessing game we have we're we basically have a theme and sing lines from songs and guess what the_**…[Stops, seems to realize something because she turns to her daughters and chides them]**_ Very funny you guys. I can't believe you're singing songs about losing one's virginity. I'd ground you both now if I could.

Suzie: Sorry, Mom. Fine, fine, pep talk for Mommy San. Here we go!

Blue: Me first!

"_Buddy you're a boy make a big noise _

_Playing in the street _

_Gonna be a big man some day _

_You got mud on your face _

_You big disgrace_

_Kickin' your can all over the…"_

Santana: That would be "We Will Rock You", Queen.

Suzie: Me next!

"_This ain't a song for the broken-hearted _

_No silent prayer for the faith-departed _

_I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd _

_You're gonna hear my voice…"_

Blue and Santana: "It's My Life", Bon Jovi!

Suzie: Everybody, sing it with me now! _**[Suzie starts to sing and is joined by Santana and Blue]**_

"_It's my life _

_It's now or never _

_I ain't gonna live forever _

_I just want to live while ... _

_It's my life _

_My heart is like an open highway _

_Like Frankie said _

_I did it my way…"_

Rachel _**[Starts to sing]**_:

"_There's a hero  
If you look inside your heart  
You don't have to be afraid  
Of what you are  
There's an answer  
If you reach into your soul  
And the sorrow that you know  
Will melt away…"_

_**[Everyone stops, looks at Rachel, puzzled.]**_

Suzie: Umm…at the risk of being called an awful daughter, I'm sorry, Mom, but that's pretty lame…but… "Hero", Mariah Carey.

_**[Everyone starts to laugh as Santana moves to put an arm on an indignant Rachel.]**_

Rachel: Excuse me? Singing a Mariah Carey chart-topper is considered _lame_?

Santana _**[Nodding]**_: Really lame, honey.

Rachel: I hate you all. _**[To Santana] **_You're sleeping on the couch tonight.

Santana: "_Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity…To seize everything you ever wanted. one moment…Would you capture it or just let it slip?"_

Blue _**[Looking at Santana, puzzled]**_: Um…no? Isn't this concert what this is all about?

Suzie: Yeah, I mean it was _your_ idea in the first place…

Santana _**[Grins triumphantly, throws her arms up in the air]**_: You lose! Eminem, "Lose Yourself".

_**[Suzie and Blue look at Santana, puzzled as Blue speaks up]**_ I don't understand.

Santana: That was the first part of the song, "Lose Yourself". Which is kind of funny because you both lost. Now pay up.

Suzie: Aaaw, _Mom_. Fine. I'm buying pizza later.

Santana _**[Hugging both her daughters]**_: Thanks you guys. You guys are monsters but I love you both.

Suzie and Blue: Love you, too, Mom.

Blue: Now, lemme go, Mom. Camera's recording this for posterity. Now everyone's gonna know I'm a total Momma's girl and I'm never going to get laid.

**_[Suzie snickers, Blue glares at her.]_**

_**[A young man, roughly a few years older than Suzie, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, African American, tall, with closely cropped hair, comes up to the group.]**_

African American man: Hi, Miz B! What's up?

Rachel _**[smiles]**_: Hey, Zee. _**[Everyone greets Zee]**_

Zee: You guys ready? We start in a few. Just thought I'd let you know. _**[Exits]**_

_**[A blonde woman, taller than Rachel, appears. She walks with a slight limp, and has that perpetual, haughty snobbish look on her face. She looks beautiful.]**_

Blonde woman: Hey, you guys!

Blue _**[Brightens up]**_: Aunt Q! You came!

Suzie: Hey, Aunt Q!

Rachel and Santana _**[Smiling at the woman]:**_Hey, Quinn.

Quinn: Just came by to wish you luck. Jeffrey and Aidan are out in front. Just wanted to let you guys know we made it. Your grandfathers, the Berrys, the Lopezes, Max, Carlos, Carlitos, Tia Evita, pretty much the whole Lima contingent are out front, too.

Blue _**[Suddenly hyperventilating]**_: Oh god, the whole State of Ohio is _here_?

Quinn: And California. Mike and Tina and their kids are here. And the whole horde of freaks and geeks Sam could round up. Speaking of which, where _is_ that dork?

Santana _**[handing Blue a paper bag]**_: Blue, you're not nervous the members of Congress and Senate and possibly the President and Vice President are here, but you're nervous that the whoel state of Ohio and California are here? _**[Turns to Quinn, glares at her.] **_Thanks, Q, really. Thanks for making my daughter have an impromptu panic attack.

Quinn: Oh, up yours, Santana.

Santana and Rachel: Quinn! _Language._

_**[A young woman, blonde, tall, with a headset, a pen and a clip board, comes up to them.]**_

Young woman: Hey you guys!

Rachel _**[Turns to smile at the young woman]**_: Hey, Beth.

Beth: Hi.

Santana, Suzie, Blue, Beans: Hey, Beth!

Blue: Where's Shelby?

Beth: Mom's…here…she's just warming up. Vocalizing and stuff. Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but we're on in a few. You guys ready?

Blue, Santana, Suzie, Rachel: Yes!

Beans: Yes!

Beth: Okay. I'll see you out front.

Quinn _**[Grins]**_: Break a leg, you guys!

Rachel _**[As the others are leaving, she talks to Beth]**_: Beth, thanks for doing this.

Beth: Thank me later. I might just screw this up. _**[Smiles at Rachel]**_ Break a leg!

Rachel: You, too!

Quinn: Hey, Beth.

Beth: Hi…Qui…_**[Beth stops, hesitates]**_ Mom? Can I just call you that? I know it's a bit presumptuous but…

_**[Quinn just looks at Beth, tears welling up in her eyes, unable to speak, she just nods.]**_

Beth: I mean…we've known each other long…I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind. It's just…it feels a bit weird and…disrespectful calling you by your first name…I mean…I hope you don't mind…

Quinn _**[Tries to speak, falters, opens her mouth, swallows, before she turns to the camera and speaks, voice cracking]**_: I'm sorry, could you give us a minute, Miss Later, please? I just…need some time to talk to my…daughter…

_**Okay. Sorry. I'm just…going to…**_

_**[As Quinn and Beth hug and laugh and cry all at the same time, the camera pulls back to show young people, musicians, all in various states of nervousness, then a voice from outside calls out their name and there is thunderous applause outside. The camera follows the young people outside, to a massive stage, in front of which are a lot of people who have been waiting to watch the "Music is Life" Orchestra to play for the audience. Camera shifts to show familiar faces in front of the stage, Broadway star Rachel Berry, partner Santana Lopez, daughter Susanna Marie Lopez. As the young musicians take their places in front, a figure comes out and marches to the center of the stage, in front of the musicians. The figure is about five foot three or four, dressed in a suit, is wearing glasses, and a hearing aid, and holding a baton in her hand. The figure is sporting short, dark hair, and has this tough swagger that contrasts with how she transforms when she stands in front of the orchestra, taps her stick against the stand and as one, the orchestra readies their instruments and as she begins to move her hands and indicates that the young people follow, and the first strains of a piano start to play. It is the last movement of Beethoven's Symphony 9. The music conductor is none other than acclaimed Sarah Elizabeth Blue Berry Lopez, Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez's younger daughter. Cut to shot of Rachel smiling proudly in the audience as daughter conducts with elegance and amazing efficiency.]**_

* * *

_**[Cut to Rachel Berry, sitting in their family living room, in Brooklyn. Rachel Berry is an award-winning Broadway Star and accomplished actress who is known to have championed Arts Education in American Public Schools. She is credited for reviving interest in the Arts in public schools and for having introduced a successful curriculum in Brooklyn that is now being replicated in other parts of the U.S.]**_

If you'd told me years ago, when I first found out that Blue was hearing-impaired, that she would someday become a musician, and an accomplished musician at that…I would have laughed in your face…Blue, by no means, had an easy life. Among other things, she had a weak heart, asthma, weak eyesight and to top it all off, is hearing-impaired…I didn't have the best hope that she would actually get whatever she wanted out of life, that she would have the fullest life possible.

_**[Cut to the concert itself, with the pianist finish playing the first part of the last movement of Symphony 9. The music fades, after which the curtain reveal a tall, olive-skinned woman with curly hair, Kate, who bears a striking resemblance to Suzie's child, Beans, with a microphone, starting to sing the first stanza of Alicia Key's 'Empire State of Mind' (New York) a capella style:**_

"_**New York…**_

_**Concrete jungle where dreams are made of**_

_**There's nothing you can't do**_

_**Now you're in New York, New York, New York…"**_

_**Kate's voice fades away into a whisper and another voice from the wings wafts through the curtains and the figure steps out and it is Santana singing Alicia Key's 'Girl On Fire':**_

"_**She's just a girl, and she's on fire**_

_**Hotter than a fantasy, lonely like a highway**_

_**She's living in a world, and it's on fire**_

_**Feeling the catastrophe, but she knows she can fly away…"**_

_**As Kate continues to sing from 'Empire State of Mind' Santana sings the chorus of 'Girl On Fire':**_

"_**This girl is on fire**_

_**This girl is on fire**_

_**She's walking on fire**_

_**This girl is on fire…"**_

_**As her voice fades, a curtain opens to reveal a DJ start to mix a song, and the first strains of Jay-z and Alicia Keys' 'Empire State of Mind' (New York) start to play. Blue taps the end of the music stand, the rest of the orchestra take their positions, the violinists position their violins on their necks, the cellists get ready to play, everyone waits for Blue and as she motions for them to start playing, the string section start to slowly play the melody from the first stanza of 'Empire State', and they are followed by the rest of the strings, and the cymbals crash against each other and the timpani rolls out the drum roll sounds and the hall is filled with the heady combination of an orchestra playing 'Empire State' so beautifully that the audience begins to clap. A man comes out of the wings, the man is Zee, who starts to rap to the tune of the song.]**_

* * *

_**[Cut to Rachel Berry in their living room in their Brooklyn home. Rachel still looks beautiful, but older, lines on her face revealing the many life experiences she has gone through.]**_

We had a hard time of it, those first few years. You know how it is. Santana and I, we were singers, you see. We were in a high school glee club. I went to NYADA. I made a whole career out of music. Santana may have ended up having a distinguished career in law, working first at Earth Advocates, before starting a law firm, and when we moved back to Brooklyn, working as a legal consultant and as a consulting lawyer for the UN Human Rights Council, but her first love has always been music. Suzie was also musically inclined, but mostly in dance, so, yes, it was hard those first few years. And Blue could have the foulest temper ever. I think she got that from Santana.

_**Santana**_: I'm right _here._

_**[Camera pulls away to reveal Santana Lopez sitting beside Rachel Berry. Santana's arm is on Rachel and Rachel is holding Santana's hand. Santana also looks older, but still as beautiful as Rachel, skin still smooth and tan, voice confident and raspy as she talks.]**_

_**Rachel:**_ It's true though.

_**Santana:**_ I…yeah, it's true.

_**So it was hard for you guys those first few years?**_

_**Rachel [Sighs]**_: Yes. That's why we had to move to Albany for a while. I had to give up my career for a while first to become a full-time mom. We _**[She looks at Santana]**_ had decided Blue needed at least one full-time mom to take care of her, at least through the difficult years, you know?

_**Was it tough?**_

_**[There is silence as the couple thinks it over, before they both slowly nod in response.]**_

_**Santana**_: Yes. We never spoke about it to the kids after, but it was hard. But we had each other and we had the kids, and that was enough. We knew Blue would always need special care, but we hadn't counted on her…

_**Rachel**_: Spirit…

_**Santana**_: And spunk. And stubbornness. And god was she stubborn!

_**Rachel**_: And determined! God was she determined! No amount of discouraging could stop her pursuing a career in music, of all things. Can you imagine? A hearing-impaired person pursuing a career in music?

_**Well, she is a music conductor now, the music director of 'Music is Life Foundation' and helping impoverished Brooklyn kids find salvation in music. And you know a number of other people with similar difficulties have succeeded in life. Think Beethoven for example.**_

_**[Rachel nods impatiently]**_ Yes. We realize that now. But at that time, we weren't sure if her hearing-impairment would stay the same, or would get worse, or would get better, or what. We didn't want her being bullied for being out of the ordinary, for wanting something that she could never have, for pushing the limits of what she is told she can and can't do. And believe me when I say that she's had her share of bullying in school. I can't tell you the number of times we've been called to the principal's office for her behavior. We were frustrated at first at the school for not taking a more pro-active, stronger stance against bullying, but I guess, in retrospect, this bullying is so ingrained in our culture it's really hard to eliminate it, you know? Plus, being the daughter of two gay moms didn't help any, and she was also this amalgam of Hispanic, Jewish, African-American, Caucasian races that made the other kids already consider her a freak, so that proved hard for her as well. We hadn't thought it was going to be that hard when we first decided to have her. I'm sure there were a lot of things that Blue chose not to tell us anymore. But that proved to have made her even more determined to make it. Because everyone told her she couldn't.

I mean, I guess, nobody knows why life hands you that kind of thing. The best you can do is live life the best you can until your reason for living is revealed.

_**[There is silence now as the couple thinks about this.]**_

_**[Rachel speaks now.]**_

Things got better when we decided to move back to Brooklyn. Everyone was against it, to say the least. Both my parents and Santana's parents. I mean, when you think a great place to start a family, you don't immediately think Brooklyn, but we had this great place in what we call The Gardens now, it's like a suburb of Brooklyn that's so not like the other places in New York. Santana hadn't told me she'd kept the place, had asked Max and Carlos to keep a watch on it, and when I'd suggested we should go back, she'd just grinned and told me, "I know just the place".

_**[Rachel looks at Santana now, love apparent in her face.]**_ And that's why I will love you forever.

_**[Santana grins, although she glances surreptitiously at the camera, as if embarrassed that the camera is recording this for posterity.]**_

_**But surely there was a deeper reason for going back to Brooklyn?**_

Rachel: Yes. By this time, Blue was about to turn six. It was a little before spring. School was going to start in the fall. Nursery and kindergarten at Albany was a disaster, with the other parents upset that Blue was turning their children's lives a living hell. _**[Santana chuckles. Rachel turns and glares at her. Santana stops laughing and mutters a "sorry". ]**_ She gets that from you, you know. _**[Rachel turns to the camera]**_ She gets that temper from Santana you know. Santana used to have issues _**[Santana rolls her eyes]**_. Anyway, so yeah.

The thing that finally made us decide to go was this school, the Omega Alternative School.

* * *

_**[Cut to a school, a group of colorful buildings organized in an organic manner, with the name Omega Alternative School posted in front].**_

* * *

I'd come across this school when I was surfing the internet for another, better school for Blue.

_**[Santana interrupts]**_: Because she is _anal_ like that.

_**Rachel [Turns to Santana]**_: Ignoring you now. _**[Turns to the camera]**_ I signed her up for the school right then and there. Santana was not sure about it at first, and it had taken a lot of convincing for Santana to say yes to the school, but I had gone on a staunch, determined campaign to make Blue go to this school. Suzie supported me on this, too _**[Santana quips, "Suzie would have gone with you to hell and back if you'd told her. She loves you more than she does me." Rachel says, "No, she doesn't." Santana says, "Okay, no she doesn't, but you're definitely her favorite!" Rachel smiles at this before she continues.]**_. Sure, it was in Brooklyn, but it was near our old place, but what sold me to the idea was the fact that it had a good policy regarding children with disabilities and even though it was a public school, they kept the number of children per classroom to a minimum of twenty. I had talked to the school administrator and he had talked about the public school's policy being founded on the principal of democracy, the school valuing general knowledge, social sciences, arts, and literacy, things that I always valued. I taught in a public school in Brooklyn once, I have a teaching license, I am well aware of the kind of problems the American education system has, and there was no way I would let Blue wallow in a terrible school in Albany when I could let her have the best possible education a child with a disability could have in New York.

_**I remember you telling me Santana was against Blue studying in Omega?**_

_**[Rachel and Santana nod enthusiastically. Rachel continues.]: **_But what Santana had thought twice about was the fact that the school basically did not give grades, or tests or hand out homework. "Kids learn at their leisure," the school administrator, James Thomas, this nice, forty-something guy, had explained to us. "There are no grades and we don't waste kid's time with homework. We let them learn organically through playing and interacting with other kids in a nurturing environment to help them grow into smart individuals. The kids are valued and not judged."

It was the lack of grades, homework and tests that threw Santana off, and I remember telling Santana "I'm surprised you feel weird about sending our daughter to an alternative school. I should think you'd be happy Blue wouldn't be doing any homework or tests. You weren't exactly the model of academic achievement in school."

_**[Santana nods in grudging agreement.]**_

_**[Rachel]**_: Suzie loved it though, and was bummed we hadn't thought of sending her to that school. But Suzie wasn't hearing-impaired, so she'd gone to a mainstream school, so. So anyway, after much research and discussion on it, Santana finally agrees to it, and we finally decide to let Blue go to school at Omega. Oh, sure, Blue herself was against it at first, and we had a hell of a time trying to convince her, during her first day of class to go, but that had more to do with her personality, which was beginning to become more and more like Santana's every day. I mean, god, does she idolize Santana! _**[Santana sits back, folds her arms in front of her, a satisfied smirk on her face. Rachel looks at her, rolls her eyes and continues to speak.]**_ But anyway, as it turns out, it was the best decision we'd ever made.

Funny you mention that, as Beethoven is one of her favorite composers. I guess there was something about a guy losing his hearing to syphilis in his thirties and composing his best work without ever actually hearing any of them, that resonated with Blue.

* * *

_**[Cut to home video by Suzie of the inside of Santana's red Honda, as it smoothly rolls to a stop on the school parking lot of Omega Alternative School, before she cuts the engine, pulls up the emergency brake and peers out of the windshield to look at the hordes of little children coming out of other cars or SUVS, hopping, skipping, running and walking to school alone or with their parents, a nice school with a wide, immaculately trimmed lawn enclosed by a tall, chain-linked fence where kids who have arrived early are playing on the playground, by the sandbox, on the slides, on the seesaw, on the swings, on the monkey bars, or playing ball, or tag, with a few others playing games on their phones or PlayStation or listening to music or chatting with their friends, laughing and giggling and shouting and pretty much being like kids. The handheld camera is shaky at best, but it captures the events inside the car thus. **_

_**Beside Santana, on the passenger seat, is Rachel, in a blouse and short skirt that doesn't really do a good job of hiding Rachel's thighs, and black high heels. Rachel is wearing a bit of make-up and her dark wavy hair falls in waves down her shoulders and back as she runs a hand on her hair and peers out of the window as well. The camera catches the soft look on Santana's face as she looks at Rachel and she smiles at her. **_

_**Blue, now six year old, sits behind them, quiet and sulking slightly, short and chubby but every bit a reflection of both Santana and Rachel. She has Rachel's eyes, Santana's eye lashes, Santana's nose, Santana's tan skin, Santana's pout and sulky face and even the way she rolls her eyes is Santana's all the way. She has dark hair that is short, like a boy's cut, bangs framing her round face and emphasizing her large dark eyes even more. Blue is tiny for her age though, where Suzie, at six, had been taller than the other kids. Her slightly pudgy fingers go up and push her overly big, round glasses up the bridge of her nose and makes a face as she sees the children and the school outside the car. She is wearing her Captain America tee-shirt and denim overalls, the tee shirt a gift from her Uncle Sam, a favorite shirt that she insists on wearing every day to the consternation of her parents, especially Rachel who have had to buy a couple of other Captain America shirts so she doesn't have to wear the same shirt over and over again. Beside her is the Avengers backpack that Uncle Sam had bought her as well - pretty much the only thing that would motivate her to go to school, if it meant being able to wear the backpack. She is wearing the sneakers that her older sister, Suzie, has bought her, sneakers that light up red whenever she walks or runs, and this has encouraged her to walk more, rather than insist that Santana carry her when she gets tired.]**_

* * *

_**[Cut to the Berry-Lopez kitchen, right before Santana drives them to school, where Suzie's video camera catches an argument between Rachel and Blue, with Blue saying she didn't want to go to school, and Rachel insisting she should. **__**From the voice behind the hand-held camera, it is obvious that the one taking the video is Suzie, Blue's older sister, who has come specifically to see Blue and the rest of the family.**_

_**There are days when Blue wants to go to school, and there are days when she doesn't, and the mood swings are driving Rachel crazy and she claims it's Santana's genes - because of course, as Rachel claims, Blue would inherit the most annoying aspects of Santana's genes, to which Santana has quipped, "How do you know those are not your genes manifesting itself in our child?" which earns her a glare from her wife, which in turn makes her shut up. **_

_**Santana and Suzie watch, fascinated, as mother and daughter argue about the merits and demerits of being in school, thus - ]**_

Rachel: Why don't you want to go to school? School makes you smarter.

Blue _**[Stubborn, adamant.]**_: Uncle _Tham_ and Zie-zie make me smarter. Did you know _cowth_ can _thleep_ _thanding_ up?

Rachel: I did not know that, honey, but you're still going to school, Blue.

Blue: Aaaw, _mama._ D'you know that _thalamanderth_ breathe through their _thkin_?

Suzie_** [From behind the camera]:**_ Did you know that lightning is five times hotter than the sun's surface?

Blue: Did you know that an _owl'th eyeth_ are bigger than _ith brainth_? And that _ithtarfishth_ have no _brainth_?

Suzie: Did you know starfish can change sexes?

Blue: Cool!

Suzie: Did you know rabbits are born blind?

Blue _**[Grins]**_: Cool! Can we have _rabbitth_, Mama?"

Rachel: For the thousandth time, no, we can't have rabbits. Your parrot disappeared. I am still taking care of Kurt the dog. I don't think we can have rabbits.

Blue: Aaww, _Mama_. Did you know that _octoputh_ have three _hearth_? And that _cowth_ have four _stomachth_?

Suzie: Did you know that ducks have three eyelids and that goldfish can live up to forty years?

Rachel: Did you know that if we get going now, we can beat morning traffic and make it in time for your class?

Blue: Aaaww, _Mama_. You're killing me here. You're killing me. Mama, where do _babieth_ come from?

_**[There is silence from everyone as everyone considers this. Santana, who is busy going over the news on her iPad and reaching for her cup of coffee with the other, patiently waiting for the discussion to stop so she can drive them all to school, stops, pauses, not knowing what to say, whilst the others look to each other, not knowing what to say. No one says a word. Finally, Rachel speaks up.]**_

Rachel:Alright. C'mon, we're going to school.

Blue _**[Getting off her high chair and putting her jacket on]**_: _Becauth_ my _friendth_ Ashanthee _thayth _they come from the _thork_ but that's just _ridiculouth_ _ithn't_ _ith_?

Suzie: Yes, because babies come from cabbage patches.

**_[Rachel and Santana glare at the camera.]_**

* * *

_**[Cut to scene again in the car at Omega Alternative School, later. Blue is quiet now as she looks out of the window, unsure whether to go out or not. ]**_

_**[Santana looks at Blue, before she looks at Rachel, touches her thigh] **_Baby, maybe we shouldn't force Blue to go to school if she doesn't want to.

Rachel _**[Looks at her now, then turns her head and looks at Blue]**_ :Do you really not want to go to school today, honey? Because if you don't want to, you can stay at home…and study…

_**[Blue sits silently behind them, unsure, undecided, before an olive-skinned, dark girl with pig tails, wearing a dress, showing scraped knees covered with band-aid and a fair-skinned, Hispanic-looking boy with corn rows, wearing a Superman shirt and jeans, skip to their car, lean over and wave at Blue, beckoning for her to come out and play. ]**_

_Santana__** [Speaks softly]: **_Hey, aren't they your friends? You met them during orientation day remember? I forgot their names…Aisha? Jo…Jon…?"

_Blue_: Ashanti. And Jonah.

_Santana__**:**_ Ah, yeah, Jonah. They're your friends, yes.

Blue _**[Sighing]**_: Yeah

Santana: You have fun with them?

Blue: Yeah

Santana: What did you guys do before?

Blue: We play on the monkey _barth_ and the _thee thaw_ and the _slideth_ and the _thand_ box and…

_**[Ashanti now takes out a hamster, and excitedly points to it as Jonah looks at her with admiration and awe on his face. Then as if Blue hasn't seen the hamster in Ashanti's palms, Jonah leans over, taps on the window and points excitedly at the hamster in Ashanti's hands. They needn't have bothered though, because Blue is staring at them, transfixed, leaning over and being held back by her seatbelt.]**_

Santana _**[Voice gentle]**_: Do you want to go home now?

_**[Blue shakes her head.]**_

Santana: Do you want to go to school now?

_**[Blue nods her head.]**_

Santana _**[Grins]**_: Honey, we'll never ask you to do something you don't like. If you really don't want to go to school yet, you don't need to, okay?

_**[Blue nods.] **_

Santana: Do you want to go to school now?

_**[Blue nods.]**_

Santana _**[Nodding]**_: Okay, honey. You have your cellphone with you. Call us when you need something.

Rachel: Although honey, calling us to inform us that your classmate smells weird or you are bored does _not_ count as emergency or you needing us or needing anything. And please don't call us and announce something cryptic like "It's all _hatched_".

_**[Blue nods again, a smile spreading on her face. Rachel smiles as well, and leans over to help Blue unbuckle her seat belt. As she does so, she speaks.]**_

Rachel: Okay, just to make sure, let's go over the rules again. Your lunch is in your bag, okay? What do we do with our juice box?

Blue: We don't aim it at the other kid's face and squeeze as hard as we can.

Rachel: And…?

Blue: We don't scream, _"Aponte… fuego!"_ and kick them in the nuts afterwards.

Santana: Gotta admit it's kind of cool our kid is multi-lingual and multi-cultural. _**[Suzie laughs as Santana grins but the grin disappears and the camera swivels to reveal Rachel glaring at her. "Sorry, baby," Santana mutters.]**_

Rachel: What do we do when we're playing in the sandbox and need to go pee-pee?

Blue: We don't pee in the _thand_ box. And throw _thand_ on the other _kidth_.

Rachel: We don't collect our pee in a bottle and give it to the other kids and say it's apple juice, okay?

_**[Sound of snickering in the background. Camera is shaking. Rachel turns to the camera and says, "Cut it out, Suzie." "Sorry, Mom," the voice from behind the camera says. The camera turns to Santana who is also grinning from behind the wheel. The smile disappears on her face and the camera goes back to Rachel who is glaring at Santana. "Sorry, baby," Santana's voice, off-camera, says. Rachel turns to Blue.] **_

Rachel: And what do we do with other kids Coke cans?

Blue: We don't steal them and shake as hard as we can and then aim the _canth_ at the other _kidth_.

Rachel: And what do we do with the dirt or mud or grass that gets on our hands?

Blue: We don't wipe our hands on other's people's faces. Or other people's clothes.

Rachel: We don't…?

Blue: Force the other kids to eat them.

Rachel: Or…?

Blue: Put them in other people's noses…Or ears.

Rachel: Or other holes. Just to see if they fit or not. Like you did last time. And we don't use sand, stone, grass, crayons as weapons when other people upset us. Or make fun of us. Like you did last time.

Santana: We use our pens for that._** [Rachel shoots her a glare that effectively wipes the grin off of Santana's face.]**_

Suzie** [From behind the camera]: **Oh, my god, this is just too funny! _**[Rachel glares at the camera. Suzie says, "Sorry, Mom". Rachel turns to Blue again.]**_

Rachel: Speaking of pens…what do we do with permanent markers?

Blue: We don't take it from the teacher's desk and write the alphabet on someone's face.

Santana _**[Jokes]**_: Gotta admit though it's kind of cool she got the alphabet correctly when she wrote it on that kid's face.

_**[Rachel turns and glares at Santana. Santana puts up her hands in surrender.]**_

Rachel: What do we do with toys? And musical instruments?

Blue: We share them _**[Blue makes a face]**_. And we let the other kids play with the drums and the xylophone and stuff.

Rachel: Yes. We don't hit our playmates with the stick we use to play xylophone with, okay? And what do we do with the paint on our fingers during finger-painting time?

Blue: We put it on paper, not on the other kids' faces or clothes.

Rachel _**[Nodding]**_. And clay? What do we do with clay?

Blue: We make stuff with them, not put them in the other kids' lunch and make them eat them.

Rachel: And we don't scream 'No touching' many, many times to the other kids we don't like, the principal or the teachers we don't like, in the hallway, for everyone to hear, and get them in trouble, okay?

_**[Blue nods again.] **_

Rachel: Good. What do we do with teachers?

Blue: We listen to them. And we never, ever bring them dead frogs or worms or _spee-yay-ders_ or something. _**[When Rachel nods, satisfied, Blue speaks again].**_ And pretend to like what they're saying, even when it's boring.

Rachel: Good. _**[Rachel fixes Blue's jacket. Rachel looks like she is about to cry, tears seem to be welling up in her eyes.]**_ Behave, okay? Be good. And don't take your hearing aid off when you don't like what the teacher is saying, okay?

Blue: Okay, Mama.

Rachel: Oh, before I forget, please let's not call your friend Jonah, Jonad, okay?

Blue: Why not? Jonad is a cooler name than…Jonah.

_**[The camera starts to shake again as Suzie starts to laugh.]**_ _Jonad! _

Rachel _**[Looks at Suzie]**_: I imagine you taught her that?

Suzie _**[Camera turns to Santana]**_: Actually, Mom, Mom did.

_**[The grin on Santana's face disappears.]**_: No, I did not.

Rachel _**[Stares at both Santana and Suzie, before she turns to Blue]**_: _Anyway_. Honey, please let's not call people stuff like, they're the biggest butthead or fruitcake or whatever, or the world's biggest single-celled organism and so on, okay?

_**[The camera starts to shake again as Suzie starts to chuckle. Suzie speaks.]**_ Oh, that's all Blue, I think. I don't think anybody taught her that.

Rachel: _**[Turns to Suzie]**_ Thanks, Suzie. _**[Turns to Blue.]**_ I love you.

Blue: I love you, too, Mama _**[Blue impatiently grabs her bag, kisses her mother, opens the door, jumps out and starts to excitedly chat with her friends.].**_

_**[The couple watch as their child makes her way to the school, but then Blue stops, talks to her friends, before she turns around and runs back to the car. Rachel raises her eyebrows as she opens her car door, leans over and asks]**_: What is it, honey?

_**[Blue stops in front her mother, looks down on the ground, then looks up again, before she wraps her arms around her mother, kisses her on the cheek, then she climbs over Rachel's lap, and puts out her arms and Santana grins as she leans over and gives the child a hug, too. Blue holds Santana a long time, tightening her hug, before she turns to give Santana a wet, sloppy kiss and whispers, "I love you, Mommy", before she lets her mother go, moves to give Rachel another quick hug, before she jumps out of the car and runs back to her friends. **_

_**As they watch Blue run to her friends, the couple spot James Thomas, the school principal, coming up to meet the kids, pausing in front of them to talk to them, leaning over slightly to look at the hamster in Ashanti's hands, smiling and nodding before his face grows serious and he tells them something and the three kids listen intently and nod. In a little while the school bell rings. The man then bends down even more to listen to Blue, who is the smallest, tell him something, and Rachel and Santana lean over, curious as to what Blue is about to say, but they see her grab the man's hair and the toupee comes off and Rachel and Santana make a face. His balding pate is now exposed for all to see and the older kids start to snicker and laugh, his bald head shining against the sun. The man's face is turning red, livid with anger, but Blue had already run off, tossing the toupee to the ground. The camera is shaking again, as Suzie's laughter comes from behind the camera, and Rachel turns to the camera and says, "That's not funny, Suzie." Santana says, "It's a bit funny, baby." Suzie says, "It's a lot funny, Mom." As the last of the kids file into the building, the car is silent once again, before Suzie says, "They grow up fast, don't they?" The couple is silent, before Rachel sighs and says, "Yeah, they do." Santana says, "They really do." Suzie is silent for a while as Santana starts the car and Rachel says, "Thanks for coming, Suzie. We know you're busy and all, but you being here helped Blue a lot, you have no idea." Suzie says, "I know, Mom. She adores me..." Suzie is silent again, before she says, "Don't worry, if all goes well, I shall provide you with grandchildren that you can pamper and spoil like nobody's business." Both Rachel and Santana turn to look at the camera and Suzie, before Santana realizes she needs to keep her eyes on the road, and Rachel says, "Are you serious?" Suzie is silent, before she says, "Well, I have to convince Kate I am parent material first, before anything else. And she has to agree to be a mom, because there's no way I'm bearing the child myself, but yeah!" Santana laughs before she says, "Good luck with that!" Suzie says, "Hey!" Rachel smiles encouragingly to the camera before she says, "I'm sure you'd make a great mom, Suzie." Santana says, "Don't encourage her." Suzie laughs and says, "Mommy Rach thinks I can pull it off, Mom. Leave me alone."]**_

* * *

_**[Cut to James Thomas, administrator of Omega Alternative School.]**_

Yes, Blue was one of our best students.

_**Did you always know she had the talent and acumen and potential to be a musician?**_

_**[James Thomas pauses, mulls this over, before he smiles and speaks. James Thomas is sitting in his office, at the Omega Alternative School. The office is simple, decorated with certificates and framed diplomas, a picture of his family, a picture of him with students, with a couple of trophies, a tray, a small shelf of books and folders, a steel file cabinet, a desk and behind the desk, wearing his suit, is James Thomas. James Thomas is tall, angular, with an equally angular, bony face, a large nose, expressive eyes and disheveled hair. Behind him is a window with venetian blinds, behind which the sound of shouting children can be heard. The noise of a school bell announcing the end of recess briefly interrupts the interview.]**_

No. Not really. _**[He pauses again, as if thinking of what to say next, before he speaks.]**_ You have to understand. She was this really sweet, very nice kid, daughter of a successful lawyer and an equally successful Broadway star, but she was a bit of a brat with a temper whose condition kind of made it a bit hard for her to communicate with the other kids. She spoke too loudly, she had way too much energy, and that was even if she wasn't on any kind of sugar rush, and she just kept all the teachers exhausted and always on their toes…

But she could be so sweet, too, and she had this amazing, inquisitive mind and she always kept asking questions and she was eager to learn and because our school was unlike any other school, it freed her up to explore the world, explore the world outside, on the lawn, the trees, watch the ants and the bees or the worms or spiders…_** [He smiles now, remembering the memory.] **_She used to call them _spee-yay-ders_…She'd watch them crawl around in the dirt, or she'd just lie down on the yard, in the dirt, on the grass, or on the sandbox, with her hands tucked up behind her head, staring up at the sky, her glasses reflecting clouds and blue sky. As long as there was an adult present, supervising her, outside, it was okay. Sometimes she would stay indoors, especially when it rained or it snowed, and she would just spend hours in the music room, tinkering with the piano or any of the other musical instruments she would see there.

_**She didn't go to class?**_

Oh, sure she did. But classes, especially for children like Blue, who looked and seemed like they had a different learning style, one that didn't go well with a rigid curriculum that required sitting for hours on end in a classroom memorizing words and facts and phrases and what-not and doing homework and stuff. Blue was more the kind who needed to take the time to learn what she wanted and we pretty much let her do her thing, and except for the three 'R', reading, writing, and arithmetic, all of which she was required to attend, because we still believed in functional literacy, she was pretty much left to her own devices.

_**Wasn't that a bad idea, just letting Blue do her own thing? It seems a bit…unstructured…**_

Not at all. Because she learned at her own pace, and because we never pushed her to do anything she didn't want…and truthfully, we'd much rather she do her own thing after she's done with her major subjects, and not actively be looking for trouble, like pulling someone's pigtails, or tying someone's shoe laces together, or to the desk, or pantsing someone, or the hundred and one things she used to do at school…

_**Sounds like she was quite the bully…**_

No, she wasn't. Well, no more so than the other kids who would pull pranks on the others. I'm well aware a lot of people would describe her and her group of friends the "Scourge of Omega" but I'd rather call them the life of Omega. In fact, I'd rather describe Blue as memorable…and special. Very special.

* * *

_**[Cut to Rachel and Santana. Rachel speaks.]**_: Yes, she was a bit of a special child. She always made our life…umm…interesting…

_**[Cut to a rough cut of home videos of young Blue doing exactly what Rachel, Santana and James Thomas have described: Blue playing with her mother's phones, the iPad and crying when the phones and the iPad both have a password, Blue putting on both her mothers' shoes and tripping, opening and closing the thermostat, turning the light on and off on the microwave, picking the dog by its head, throwing the toothbrushes in the sink, throwing fruit against the wall, taking her pants off, then putting them on again, running around in diapers as Rachel runs after her, squeezing the juicebox all over herself, taking off her pants again, then putting them back on then arguing with Rachel about her pants, arguing with both parents about their phones, arguing with Suzie about playing with her phone, pulling at her diaper, peeing on the floor, and laughing, screaming, "No nap!" and "I'm not tired!" repeatedly, getting into the bathtub in her clothes, looking at her socks and complaining that "They're all wrong!", crying because she's not allowed in the oven, "My lip tastes salty!", a shot of her in the car and her saying, "The car seat is weird!" "Mama, you picked the wrong pants!" "Mama, Zie-zie is staring!" "Mama, Zie-zie is making those funny faces again!", "Mama, my hair is heavy!", staring at a popsicle and asking, "I don't get how popthicles are made, Mama", making a face at the chicken and saying, "Chicken is gross!", crying for a balloon that she got six months ago that is missing, crying over a puzzle piece that won't fit in the puzzle she is doing with Santana, getting annoyed at being given the wrong crayon, getting annoyed that Netflix is slow, jumping up and down on the sofa, pouring juice from the juicebox on the sofa, "I don't understand, Mama, my shoe should fit both feet", "I don't understand, Mama, why can't I have your keyth?!" "Mama, Kurt won't let me touch his eyeballs!" "Mama, why is the food taking too long to cook?!" "I have too much food in my mouth!" Blue throwing dishes in the garbage, then toothbrushes, then Santana and Rachel, screaming, "No, Blue no! That's Mommy Tana's brief!" as Blue is about to toss pieces of paper into the garbage as well, handing Suzie an ice cube while she's in the toilet, refusing to wear socks and having Rachel run after her as she tries to put them on her, pounding on the computer and the piano as hard as she can, playing with the DVR and accidentally deleting things as Rachel says, "No, Blue, no!" **__**and a video of Blue with marks on her face and a permanent marker in her hand.] **_

_**[Cut to present, Rachel and Santana smiling, reminiscing about Blue's childhood. Santana speaks up.]**_: Good times, good times.

_**[Rachel turns to her and speaks.]**_: Remind me again, why we wanted to have more children?

_**[Santana grins]**_: Because life wasn't stressful enough as it is.

_**[Rachel looks at the camera.]**_: Yeah.

Santana _**[Grins]**_: We wanted to live life dangerously, dammit!

_**[Cut to a home video of Suzie holding the camera, with young Blue in tow, going up the stairs, and into the hallway, with a tray of food, burnt toast, burnt sunny side up eggs, orange juice, a wilting lily in a vase being held by Blue. They stop in front of a door and Suzie turns to the camera and whispers to Blue.]**_ Okay, Blue, it's Mother's Day. We sing a song….

Blue: What song?

_**[Suzie stops, not knowing what to say.] **_I don't know. I hadn't thought that far. How about we just say, "Happy Mother's Day!"

Blue: Okay, Zie!

_**[Suzie opens the door. The camera reveals Santana and Rachel under the sheets, Santana on top of Rachel, Rachel's hands on Santana. It is clear they are in the middle of something. There is a moment of shocked silence that descends as everyone, save for Blue, realizes what happens. Santana and Rachel look at the camera as Suzie doesn't know what to say. Santana is the first to speak as she scrambles to get off of Rachel.]**_

Santana: Suzie! Get out!

Suzie _**[Shaky camera]**_: Uh, yeah, right, right, sorry, Mom, sorry. Leaving now…

Blue _**[Confused]**_: What's happening, Zie-zie? Is Mommy hurting Mama?

Suzie: Err, no.

Blue: What were they doing?

Suzie: Um…nothing…

Blue: That didn't seem like nothing.

Suzie: Oh my god, Blue, drop it. They're okay. They were just…

Blue: Showing how much they love each other?

Suzie: Err…what? Yes…No…what?

_**[Cut to Santana and Rachel in the present, looking uncomfortable.]**_

Santana _**[Clears her throat]**_: Yes, we wanted to live life dangerously.

Rachel: Yes.

_**[Cut to home videos of Santana and Rachel hugging or kissing each other, in the kitchen or in the living room or in the car, and each time, the camera is shaking and the sound of two girls giggling can be heard in the background and each time, Santana turns and glares at the camera and says, "Suzie!"]**_

Santana _**[Looks to the camera]**_: Do you have kids, Miss Later?

_**No, Miss Lopez. And please, call me Luna.**_

Santana _**[Smiles]**_: You should try it. It's awesome. I mean, it's not for everyone, and it's not for the faint of heart, but it's got to be the most fulfilling job in the world.

_**[A child bounds up to the couple from behind and both Santana and Rachel smile and hold her as she tries to climb up the sofa and into Rachel's lap.]**_

_**And who might this be?**_

Rachel: This is the baby of the family. Our granddaughter, Sasha Rae, Suzie's daughter _**[Looks to the child]**_. Say hi to the nice lady, Sasha.

Sasha Rae: Hi, nice lady! _**[Waves to the camera].**_

_**Hi, Sasha Rae. Nice to meet you.**_

Sasha Rae: Nice to meet you, too. Call me Beans…everyone calls me Beans. Except Grammy Waychel. I don't think Grammy Waychel likes my name.

Rachel: I like your name, honey. I just like Sasha Rae more. _**[Rachel grins, turns to the camera]**_ Sasha is from Santana, Rae is from my name. Suzie and Kate named their child after us. Which I think was pretty sweet.

Santana _**[To the camera]**_: Don't worry, the second child will totally be named after Kate's Mom, Ru.

Rachel _**[Looks to Santana, excited]**_: Really?

Santana _**[Nods]**_: Oh, yes.

Rachel: So, we're going to have another grandchild? That's wonderful!

_**Congratulations! So why is Beans name "Beans"?**_

Sasha Rae/Beans: I don't know.

Santana _**[Grins]**_: Because when Beans was born, she looked as tiny as a coffee bean.

Sasha Rae/Beans: That's just _widiculous_, Grammy. How can I be as tiny as a coffee bean?

Santana _**[Shrugs]**_: You looked as cute as a coffee bean, that better?

Sasha Rae/Beans _**[Giggles]**_: That is awesome!

Rachel _**[Looks at Beans' eyes]**_: Honey, what's that?

Santana _**[Looks at Beans as well]**_: Is that…is that eyeliner?

Rachel: Below your eyes?

Santana: Are you wearing lipstick? _My_ lipstick? Suzie!

* * *

_**[Cut to James Thomas. He smiles.]**_: Yes, she was quite special, that one.

Anyway, once she grew tired of just hanging out in the yard or in the music room, alone, and she discovered music class, this class with one of the more experienced teachers, Mrs. Holland Streep.

* * *

_**[Cut to aforementioned Mrs. Holland Streep, who is tall, a bit on the heavy side, has sharp cheekbones, clear blue eyes, and a respectable demeanor that reminds one of those Southern Belles. Incidentally, Mrs. Holland Streep is actually from Georgia. Mrs. Holland Streep is intelligent, patient, kind and answers the questions courteously. There is no question that her passion is teaching kids.]**_

Yes, of course I remember Blue. She came to my class when she was around, maybe eight or nine. She had that concert a year or so later, when she was around ten or eleven, I forget.

Blue Berry Lopez, we just call her. She had a long name, I just know her first name, Sarah and Blue, she once told me Sarah came from her mothers, who were named "Santana" and "Rachel" and that her sister insisted she be called "Blue" as well. Her names, the history behind it, made me remember her, and she had this distinctive thing about her, from the way she walked, which I could identify from a mile away, a purposeful, self-assured swagger, like she owned the place, and she had this haughty way she lifted her chin, although I'd learned later that was her way of showing how determined she was, and she had this infectious laughter that never failed to make me laugh. When I finally met her parents, that night we had our first recital a few days before Christmas vacation, I finally understood why she was the way she was.

_**What do you mean?**_

Oh, I didn't mean that in a bad way.

_**Were you aware before meeting them that her parents were kind of…established in their fields?**_

Oh, she never spoke of them in those terms. It was clear she adored them, but she always referred to them as just her Mommies, so I hadn't put two and two until I met them later that year. It was then that I realized her mother was Rachel Berry, the Broadway Star who made that Barbra Streisand play popular. Anyway, when I met both her moms, I realized why Blue was the way she was. It was clear her parents doted on her, were very protective of her, and would have moved heaven and earth just to make her happy. But I could see her parents were determined to make life normal and easy for her, and that Blue wanted to prove to everyone that she was as normal as everyone can be.

_**And did she?**_

Did she what?

_**Prove she was as normal as everyone else.**_

Oh, dear, she was never normal. She was quite gifted. Sure, being hearing-impaired had its limits, and it limited her at first, pushed her back, but it just made her push the limits even more.

But that first small concert we put together wasn't the best of the lot. It was a disaster actually. You should have seen it. She kind of froze that night. She looked at the audience, her parents and grandparents and sister and family friends and classmates and teachers and Mr. James Thomas and me, all looking expectantly at her, and she _froze_. All the notes, all the melody, all the rhythm and harmony and everything we worked hard for for weeks all down the drain. It was probably one of the worst cases of stage fright I had ever seen. She looked at everyone and looked suddenly overwhelmed and she looked and looked and found herself running back to the back stage, and when I ran back as well, I could see her crying, sobbing. She was devastated. And embarrassed. And her parents were there. Both of them, looking all beautiful and elegant in their clothes and everything else, just comforting the girl. I've met a lot of parents in my time. You got all sorts of different parents. You get the annoying ones, the ones you avoid all year round, the ones you can't stand, the ones you think shouldn't be around kids within a ten-mile radius, the ones which embarrass you, whatever, but these parents, I don't know why, you take one look at them and you know they'd give up everything, give everything to their child just to make her smile again. I hadn't known till later that Blue's mother, Miss Rachel Berry, had actually given up her Broadway career and a budding lucrative one in Hollywood to raise Blue. I always have great respect for those, more than anybody else. Sure, it takes courage to juggle jobs and be the best parent you can be, but it takes more guts to give up your dreams so your own child can have hers. I found out her other mother had also given up her own dreams of being a singer herself to raise Blue's older sister, and I think, that's real love. It's those kinds of parents and kids that keep you teaching music and make you think there's hope for humanity after all.

_**Did Blue eventually make a comeback concert after that disastrous first one?**_

Heavens, no. She wouldn't go near a piano or a violin for the rest of the year. It took her some time. She'd just come to class, or lie down on the grass outside, or in the gym, or out on the sandbox, not saying anything. I think that crushed her spirit a bit. And the other kids, well, being kids, teased her ruthlessly about it for a few weeks, until a new kid could be teased about their own mistakes. Thankfully, since Omega had a very strict zero-tolerance policy, those bullies were weeded out fairly quickly and dealt with accordingly.

_**You make it sound like a scary version of some concentration camp or gulag or something.**_

Oh, heavens, no. Just warnings, reprimands, detention, suspension or expulsion. The kids and parents weren't foolish enough to have the kids expelled, there's a long waiting list to get to Omega and parents wait forever to get in, so parents make sure the kids behave. Most of them didn't really want their kids going back to mainstream schools, especially if the kids were special needs kids, they'd die out there. They wouldn't survive.

_**So did Blue eventually go back to music?**_

Not for a while at least. I think it shook her confidence a bit. But yes, she did, eventually.

* * *

_**[Cut back to Rachel and Santana in their home.]**_

_**[Rachel speaks up first.]**_

Yes, I remember that Christmas, when Blue was about to perform…I think Moonlight Sonata? Was it Moonlight Sonata?_** [Turns to Santana for confirmation, reaches for her hand. Santana nods.]**_ She likes Beethoven. Anyway, she'd been practicing all fall and couldn't wait to perform for us for Christmas.

_**But she couldn't perform.**_

_**[Rachel nods.]**_ Yes. It's never happened before. She loved music. We're a musical family. We love music.

_**[Cut to home video of Santana and Rachel singing in their kitchen, in the morning, with Suzie and Blue watching them, Blue beating the counter top with her hands in time to the beat of the singing whilst Suzie snaps her fingers in time to the singing.]**_

_**[Santana speaks sarcastically.]**_ Yes, we do. Especially Rachel. She'd vocalize everywhere. And I mean _everywhere_. And Blue was pretty much the same, except without the singing.

_**[Cut to home videos of Blue listening to loud, classical music in the living room in Maple Ave., Albany. Santana continues to speak.] **_I remember the first time she discovered classical music.

_**[Rachel lights up and smiles.]**_ Yes, I think it was for our housewarming party in Albany. Everyone had come. And my two dads, they'd come armed with LPs and stuff like that, to introduce to our child, and they'd started playing the first one, and I think it was Tchaikovsky, and Blue loved it. I don't think I can count the number of times I was made to listen to "1812 Overture" on repeat.

_**[Santana pipes up.]**_ And then she discovered Beethoven. And Symphony Number Nine. Last Movement. We never heard the end of _that_ one.

_**[Rachel laughs, looks at Santana]**_. Yes, she loved her classical music, didn't she? Even at a young age? I think she was three when she discovered classical music. Her love affair with it hasn't stopped since.

_**[Santana smiles.]**_ I think it was also Suzie _**[Santana turns to the camera]**_. Suzie's her older sister. She studied kinesiology and psychology at Empire State, and classical dance as well, and had an enduring and abiding love for Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake". She used to spend hours teaching Blue how to dance. Blue never really was the most coordinated kid, and she eventually outgrew dancing but she always loved that music.

_**[Rachel smiles.]**_ Always.

_**[Cut to home videos of Suzie and Blue dancing in the living room to the tune of Tchaikovsky's music.]**_

_**So I understand both of you were in Glee Club together?**_

Rachel: In high school.

Santana _**[Nods]**_: In high school.

_**In…Ohio, was it?**_

Rachel: Yes. Lima. It's this small town in the middle of nowhere where the only places you could go to was Breadstix and the local bowling alley and the local mall and stuff like that. It was pretty boring.

_**You grew up in Lima?**_

Rachel: I was born in Lima.

Santana: I was born somewhere else, but yeah, I guess you could say I grew up in Lima, too.

_**And were you high school sweethearts?**_

_**[Rachel and Santana both quickly shake their heads.]**_

Santana: No _**[Looks at Rachel, smiling]**_. Rach was with someone else.

Rachel**_ [Smiling fondly, as if remembering something from the past]_**: And San was with someone else. Actually, San used to be with everybody…

Santana: I don't think anyone else needs to know that, Rach.

Rachel: Sorry, honey.

Santana: It's okay.

_**Umm…so what was this high school Glee Club all about?**_

Rachel: Oh, our adviser used to have these ridiculous themes of the week, like silly love songs or ballads or duets, which was pretty much the same thing, or dreams or girl power or whatever and we'd always practice some particular songs, but usually change the set list at the last minute, or have some last minute drama, and we used to compete in Sectionals, Regionals and Nationals against groups with names like Vocal Adrenaline, Dalton Academy Warblers, The Hipsters, a group that looks like the Mennonites…

_**[Clip of Vocal Adrenaline singing and dancing to Amy Winehouse's "Rehab", Duffy's "Mercy" and Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" as well as Dalton Academy's "Hey Soul Sister" and their rendition of "Silly Love Songs" at Breadstix.]**_

Rachel: and Aural Intensity.

Santana: I mean, what does that even mean?!

Rachel: I think it means…

Santana: I was being rhetorical…

Rachel: _Anyway_, San wasn't interested in it at first. She was kind of like just Quinn's minion or something and did pretty much everything she said.

Santana: Hey!

Rachel: And then she got into it. So into it, in fact, that she and this other member, Mercedes, formed her own group senior year and they had this really great performance of Adele's "Someone Like You" and "Rumor Has It" and Destiny's Child's "Survivor" and "I Will Survive".

_**[Clip of Santana and the 'Trouble Tones' performing Adele's "Someone Like You" and "Rumor Has It" and Destiny's Child's "Survivor" and "I Will Survivor.]**_

_**Quinn? Is that Quinn Fabray, Santana's best friend? The one working in Congress now?**_

_**[Rachel and Santana both nod.]**_

Rachel: Anyway, before that, we were all just leaving our own separate lives. You know how high school is. It survives on cliques. You know, like in "Mean Girls"…

Santana: I never understood girls' fascination with "Mean Girls"…I mean it's great…but I wish people would stop quoting it like repeatedly and continuously.

Rachel _**[Rolls her eyes]**_: San can't relate, she used to be quite the mean girl in high school.

Santana _**[Blushes]**_: Rach, I don't think people need to know _that_ either.

Rachel: Sorry. Anyway, our adviser was this guy with a sham of a marriage to his high school sweetheart who faked her pregnancy so she could keep him…

Santana: Rach…

Rachel: Sorry…

_**Is that Mr. William Schuester? I heard he's also quite passionate about the arts. Sounds like a story for a soap opera. **_

Rachel: Oh, believe me, it was. There were love triangles, intrigues, substance abuse, whatever. And everyone had a love-hate relationship with Glee. Santana mostly. Santana used to make fun of Mr. Schue. He only ever seemed to have a wardrobe of vests, plaid shirts and enormous amounts of hair gel. He also didn't seem to know how to coach Glee Club or teach Spanish…in fact, San campaigned to have him…

Santana: They definitely don't need to know about that, Rach.

Rachel: Aaww, okay. Sorry.

Santana: I'm not going to say anything else except my education matters. Rach knows that. But in some ways, I guess, the music, Glee Club, New Directions, that helped. We didn't even like each other at first…but yeah…

Rachel: San hated me.

Santana: I did _not_.

Rachel: Yes, you did.

Santana: Well, I found you annoying, and most times I kind of wanted to tie you up, gag you, or you know, lock you up in a basement somewhere before Sectionals, Regionals and Nationals.

Santana and Rachel _**[Speaking at the same time]**_: I couldn't stand her.

Santana: Remember when you composed that stupid song, 'My Headband'?

Rachel: Remember when Brittany composed 'My Cup'? Remember when you used to call me hobbit, treasure trail and as the girl who looked like the girl in 'To Catch a Predator'?

Santana: Remember when we got so drunk…

Rachel: And you started crying?

Santana: And remember that time we hurled in front of everyone at student assembly…

Rachel: Remember that time we had to learn synchronized swimming?

Santana: Remember that mattress commercial that almost disqualified us?

Rachel: Remember that time we composed our songs right before Nationals?

Santana: And you kissed your then boyfriend in front of everyone? And we _lost?!_

Rachel: And you were so angry with me you spoke in bad Spanish and tried to attack me?

Santana: Hey! I've gotten better since then! Remember that time your ex threw eggs at you and TP'd our auditorium and the guys slashed all their tires?

Rachel: Remember when you disappointed Coach Sue and she had to revoke your tanning privileges? And you were so upset you were crying the whole day? _**[Turns to camera]**_ Which I didn't understand. San has one of those natural permanent tans everyone else would kill for _**[Santana grins]. **_Remember that time when Coach Sue got so depressed she refused to leave her apartment for one whole day and you guys went to school crying and depressed and everything?

Santana _**[Nods]**_: Remember everyone doing a mash-up of "Halo" and "Walking on Sunshine" on too much meds and I couldn't tell normal Rachel from hopped-up on caffeine or drugged Rachel because you were always hyperactive and stuff all the time?

Rachel _**[Grins at Santana]**_: You love it!

Santana _**[Makes to deny it but in the end nods]**_: I…I do... You were kind of an adorable geek with too many knee-high tube socks and animal print knit sweaters and too short skirts, but yes, you were adorable.

Rachel _**[Beams in satisfaction]**_: I can't say you were adorable but you were gorgeous.

Santana: Hey!

Rachel: Just kidding.

Santana: Remember Mr. Schue and his insistence on rapping stuff?

Rachel: Uh-huh! I think Artie was the only guy who didn't suck at rapping.

Santana: Remember that time you had a crush on Mr. Schue?

Rachel: I…don't think people need to know about that, honey.

Santana: Sorry. Remember April Rhodes?! And Miss Holliday?

Rachel: Remember the Aca-fellas?

Santana: Remember "Run, Joey Run"?

Rachel: I seriously don't think anyone else should know about that, _ever…_

_**[Cut to video of Rachel in a white dress with Santana and Brittany wearing wings, singing to "Run Joey Run" ]**_

Santana: Alright, how about Mr. Schuester, Coach Sue and Kurt's obsession with Lady Gaga and Madonna? Oh! And remember that time when you wore a nun's habit and Finn wore a priest's garb and sang "With You I'm Born Again" and everyone wanted to beat you up? Oh, and remember when you sang "Afternoon Delight" and you didn't know it was about sex? Oh, and that time you broke your nose and everyone wanted you to have a nose job? And oh, that time we tried to do our own high school musical, like "The Rocky Horror Show" and "West Side Story" and we could never really get it right? And that dinosaur prom!

Rachel: Alright, that's enough.

Santana: Good times, good times.

_**[Silence.]**_

_**Who auditioned first?**_

Santana: Rachel of course did. With the other geeks. Kurt, Tina, Mercedes, Artie…

Rachel: The others, the football jocks, the cheerleaders, did that later…

* * *

_**[Cut to Quinn Fabray, Kurt Hummel, Sam Evans, Mike Chang and Tina Cohen-Chang all sitting on a sofa. All of them look like older versions of their high school selves, hair graying or white, lines on their faces, some of them having packed on a little weight.]**_

Kurt:Yes, Rachel's right, we geeks did audition first. I sang Mr. Cellophane first.

Tina_** [Turns to Kurt]: **_You were so little then! Suddenly between sophomore year and senior year you had this growth spurt the likes of which we had never seen before!

Kurt_** [Glares at Tina]**_: Aw, shut up.

Tina:Whatever. _**[To camera]**_ I sang "I Kissed A Girl" for my audition.

Kurt: Little did we know that was actually Santana's song, not yours.

Tina_** [To Kurt]**_: How do you know it wasn't my song, too?

Kurt: Aaww, we all know you get to only have one character trait for Glee. Gay Asian would have been hard for Mr. Schue to process. Teen gay was already hard for him to process! He couldn't even deal with gay Latina!

Mercedes: I sang Aretha Franklin's 'Respect'.

Sam: Anyway, I sang 'Billionaire' for my audition. I heard the best audition came from Quinn, Santana and Brittany.

Mercedes, Tina and Kurt: 'I Say A Little Prayer For You'.

Quinn: Dionne Warwick. Complete with choreography and attitude, Cheerios style.

Sam: Quinn has this inexplicable thing for Motown.

_**To Quinn: I heard you were the Queen Bee of the popular crowd in school and you'd joined Glee Club just to keep an eye on your boyfriend. **_

Quinn _**[Nods]**_: Yes. Little did we know how Glee would change our lives in fundamental ways!

_**Did it really? Was Glee a catalyst in some ways for you guys? **_

Everyone_** [In unison]**_: Yes.

Quinn: Though we didn't know it at that time. If you want to get an idea how we really felt that first year of Glee, you only have to look at how we were the beginning of the year, to each other, and how we all were towards the end of it, when we'd lost both Sectionals and Regionals but ended up singing 'To Sir With Love' to Mr. Schue.

Kurt _**[Nods in agreement]**_: Oh, god, yes. I remember that. I can't remember the number of times Rachel and I had to argue with Mr. Schue about the set list, or the solos.

Mercedes: C'mon you guys, let's all be honest here. _Everyone _wanted the solo. And I mean, _everyone_.

Sam: Except me.

Mike: And me.

Mercedes: Except, apparently, Sam and Mike.

Sam: Yeah, that was more a girl thing than a guy thing.

Kurt: Hey!

Sam: Sorry, a girl and gay thing…

Quinn: Anyway. San, Brittany and I hated everyone.

Tina: I was faking a stutter.

Mercedes: I had this inner diva waiting to be unleashed.

Mike: I couldn't sing. In fact, I still _can't_ sing.

Sam: Ditto. They just needed another guy to fill in the arbitrary twelve member rule set forth by the Ohio Show Choir rule book.

Mike: Glee wasn't all that though, when we were in high school. It wasn't the thing that it is now. Or maybe that's just Ohio. I mean, they called us a "glorified karaoke machine" and stuff like that.

Sam: Used to make fun of us all the time. People would slushee us all the time!

Mike: The gay chorus, that's what they called us.

Quinn: We dated each other, loved and hated each other, betrayed each other, plotted revenge on each other, schemed about how to snag the solo away from each other, but yeah, I can't imagine how life could have been without Glee.

Mike: Of course, we may just be looking at the past with rose-colored glasses.

Sam: True. We probably remember it as this fun thing but I'm sure we've forgotten a lot of things since then. The old noodle not being what it used to be and all that.

Mike: Yeah, like the fights, the fights and the fights…

Sam: Especially between Quinn and Santana…Quinn and Rachel…Rachel and Santana…

_**Rachel and Santana?**_

Everyone: God, yes!

_**So they weren't the best of friends then?**_

Everyone: God, no.

Quinn: We all hated each other's guts. Santana didn't like Rachel and vice versa. I think mostly because Santana sees white girl privilege in Rachel and it pissed her off to no end.

_**Did everyone think everything would end up the way they would end up now? What with Rachel and Santana together and stuff?**_

Everyone _**[Shakes their head]**_: No.

Quinn: We didn't think about that. We hadn't actually thought that far into the future then. We had our own little dramas in our own little worlds. That was the farthest thing from our minds.

Sam: I think everyone can agree Rachel had a lot of talent though, right?

Mike: Yeah, like tons of it. Like tons and tons of it with enough of it to spare for everyone else in the club.

Mercedes: Yeah, as much as it pains me to admit it, it is true. She was only about the music. Through break-ups and laryngitis and botched auditions and terrible teachers, she kind of just shown through and sang and danced her way to the top.

Sam: Yeah, Santana will kill me for this, but she once told me, when we were in high school, that the first time she heard Rachel sing, on her myspace page, singing "On My Own", made her realize Rachel had the voice of an angel…

_**[Everyone stops and stares at Sam.]**_

Quinn _**[Surprised]**_: She did? Because she didn't seem at all that impressed and was actually the one who told me to leave a message on Rachel's myspace page and tell her to get sterilized.

Sam _**[Shrugs]**_: Dunno, but that's what she said to me. But myspace yeah? Boy, that website disappeared fast!

Mike: Got a better question for you…where exactly is Friendster now?

_**Anyway, did you guys think she'd end up creating this Foundation that's become a force of nature, something that has inspired kids to take up music? Or use music to help them with their lives?**_

Everyone: God, no.

Quinn: We couldn't stand high school Rachel Berry. Santana couldn't stand her.

Mercedes: She was bossy and pushy and made everyone rehearse til we couldn't rehearse anymore.

Tina: Plus she was kind of very "me, me, me", you know? It was always about Rachel Berry all the time.

Mercedes: But honey, we were _all_ like that.

Sam: But everyone was like that, that time. They don't call us the "Me Generation" for nothing!

Tina: Good point.

Sam: Although I hadn't figured her for a person who'd actually give up a career on Broadway to teach in Brooklyn, or give up music altogether so she can raise her child, did you? _**[Turns to the others]**_

Everyone: No.

Mercedes: Hell, I never in a million years thought she'd end up with Santana.

Kurt: No one saw _that_ coming.

Mike: That seemed like the most random thing.

Quinn: Or not. I think they're actually perfect for each other. They challenge each other, they make each other better, they inspire each other, they support each other, they're both tough and smart and just annoyingly determined and _focused_. I mean, seriously, no one ever thought maybe Rachel could swing both ways when we were in high school? I mean, c'mon, she had two gay dads. And well, I bet if Finn and Brittany weren't in the picture then, they'd have probably hooked up.

Mercedes: Or not. Those two had _way_ too many feelings in high school.

Tina _**[Nods]**_: Way too many feelings!

Mike: Glee would have totally imploded with all the feelings those two had for Brittany and Finn!

Sam: To be fair, everyone in Glee had way too many feelings about everything.

Mike: Good point.

Sam: And I've totally got to admire both Rachel and Santana for ending up the way they did, with what life dealt them. I mean to have come out of all the stuff that life threw at them stronger and better and tougher and still loving each other after all this time, and making a home and a family and raising those two kids and those kids turning out the way they did? That's pretty awesome.

Mike: Yeah, it is.

Tina: It is.

Quinn and Mercedes: It is.

Mercedes: I've always wondered how those two actually found each other, realized they were meant to be together, fell in love and…

Sam: You know, I think that's one of those things those two will probably never, ever tell us ever.

Mike: Ever.

_**But you guys turned out alright. I mean, Miss Fabray is now working in Congress, and Kurt, you're like one of the most sought-after fashion designers now. And I understand Mercedes and Tina you've carved out a comfortable niche for yourself in the music business and Mike, you have your own dance studio as well, yes? And Sam, well, you're working in the I.T. industry, yes?**_

_**[Everyone nods. Quinn speaks up.]**_

Quinn: Yes, life didn't turn out the way we expected it to, but it's turned out okay for everyone as well.

_**So, umm, can everyone give us a sample of the kind of singing you used to do in high school?**_

Quinn: Oh, wow, I haven't been singing in a while, I'm a bit rusty. Maybe Mercedes and Tina?

Kurt: Yeah, I mean, we haven't really sung in a while.

Mercedes: Maybe just a line from a song or two…

Tina: Yeah, it can't be all that bad…

Mercedes: The first song we learned to sing together very, very badly with Rachel and Kurt and the original members of New Directions was…

Kurt: "Sit Down, You're Rocking The Boat" and…

Tina: "Freak Out" by Le Freak…_ugh_…

_**What's your signature song?**_

Quinn: Signature song?

_**The song that's made you famous and stuff…**_

Mike _**[Grinning]**_: I don't know about that…I just know Kurt has this signature move that's like some kind of disturbing shimmy that's incredibly distracting _**[Starts to shimmy in his seat]**_

Kurt _**[Glaring at Mike]**_: See, this is exactly why Tina divorced you, Mike. You're a jerk.

_**[As Mike and Kurt start to argue, Tina interrupts.]**_

Tina: Hey, hey, cut it out, you two. And just so you know, I did _not_ divorce Mike for all of the reasons you have just mentioned, but because, Mike, sweetie, I love you, really I do, and you'll always be the father of my children, but I just got tired of eating dimsum and soup with chicken feet in them…I mean, I told you for the nth time I just want to eat soup that doesn't have chicken feet in them!

Mike: Yeah, like I always want to eat food that has _kimchi_ in it? I mean, ugh, seriously, Tina. Kimchi soup and kimchi rice and kimchi pizza and kimchi donuts and kimchi….

Tina: How dare you make fun of my heritage!

Mercedes _**[Rolls her eyes]**_: Here we go…

_**[Mike and Tina turn to Mercedes]**_ Shut up.

Kurt: Guys, there's no need for this kind of hostility…

_**[That becomes the signal for the group to start a free-for-all argument with each other. As everyone starts to bicker, Sam turns to the camera, the camera zooms to him and he speaks]:**_ Yeah, this is Glee Club. We argue and fight over all these things but we all kind of love each other and we've all stuck together…well, almost all of us anyway.

_**I understand some of you have not kept in touch with the others?**_

Sam _**[Shrugs]**_: Dude, it was high school. There was bound to be some falling out. Some moved away. We just lost touch with the others. And then some…well…some we lost along the way.

_**[Silence as the others argue in the background]**_

_**Yes…**_

Sam _**[Silent at first, as if lost in thought, before he sighs]**_: Yes. We've lost some to disease, some to substance abuse…_**[There is silence again.]**_

_**I'm sorry to hear that. **_

Sam _**[Suddenly morose, not looking at the camera, looking off in the distance]**_: Yeah. We miss them. We miss them a lot. _**[He is silent, before he turns to the camera again]**_ But they will always be in our hearts. Always. No matter what happens, no matter what's happened, all the pain and hurt and betrayals we've made or done to the others, we're all still going to be there for each other, because that's what we do. That's what Glee has done for us. It helped us get through high school. It kept us sane. It kept us from going crazy, you know? And that's why music has become a central part of Blue and Suzie's life, too. Because it's what kept them sane as well, it's what kept them off the streets and the drugs and the alcohol and suicide all that stuff that kids nowadays are prone to. I remember Rachel once telling me that, you know, if Blue and Suzie could just survive the teen years and the twenties alive and unscathed she thinks she's done her job and she can rest.

_**She sounds like an amazing Mom. **_

Sam: She _is_. She really is. I mean, not to say Santana isn't but, Rachel loved Suzie like she was her own, and Blue - well, Blue she loved with all her being. She would never ever let anything happen to that kid. Rachel and Santana adore Blue. She's the baby of the family. So yeah, finding out she was hearing-impaired and sickly? Well, that devastated them. Rachel thought maybe she would never have the kind of normal life the other kids have…

_**But that also turned out alright, didn't it?**_

Sam: Oh, yes, definitely. It's a credit to both Rachel and Santana that their children, especially Blue, never gave up, just kept moving, just kept getting back up when everyone kept putting them down and stuff.

_**[From the background, Quinn speaks up, very, very loudly so that the camera swivels in her direction.]**_

Quinn: _"Don't Stop Believing!"_

Mike, Tina, Mercedes, Kurt and Sam: What?

Quinn: "Don't Stop Believing" - that was our signature song.

_**[As everyone listens in silence, Quinn continues.]**_

Quinn: Well, the original Glee members' signature song. Mr. Schue had a thing for Journey songs and pretty much anything that wasn't from this century. I remember "Don't Stop Believing" because we saw you guys rehearsing it at the auditorium with the others in your ridiculous color-coordinated red outfits and Chucks and I was like, all of you should just get sterilized, but as Coach Sue and Santana and I were secretly watching you that day you were singing that song, we knew something was about to change. Coach Sue knew her Cheerios funding was in trouble, and we knew our lives would never be the same.

Tina: Hey, your Coach Sue had an inexplicable thing for Madonna, despite the fact that she looks like she's older than God.

Mercedes _**[Grins]**_: Yeah. "Don't Stop Believing". That was definitely our signature song. I mean, Rachel isn't here now to sing the lead and Finn is_**…[Everyone stops again, like Sam had, a few minutes before, and everyone swallows, not knowing what to say, lost in their thoughts before Mercedes continues]**_ but I'm sure Sam can sing the lead _**[Turns to Mike]**_ because you can't sing to save your life, Mike, sorry, and it goes a little something like this…

_**[Mercedes starts to hum the first part of the song, and the others start to hum before they start to sing the "Da-da-da" part of the song.]**_

Sam _**[Singing]**_: "_Just a small town girl living in a lonely world_

_She took the midnight train going anywhere.."_

Mercedes: "_Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit_

_He took the midnight train going anywhere..."_

Mike: "_A singer in a smoky room_

_The smell of wine and cheap perfume..."_

Tina: "_For a smile that can share the night…It goes on and on..."_

_**[Everyone starts to sing the rest of the song in harmony. The voices are rusty, out-of-practice, slightly out-of-tune, but the group just proves why New Directions had once enjoyed a popularity all those years ago.]**_

_"Strangers, waiting _

_Up and down the boulevard_

_And shadows, searching in the night_

_Street lights, people_

_Living just a fine emotion_

_Hiding, somewhere in the night…"_

_**[Cut to a video of the first Regionals performance McKinley High's Glee Club, the "New Directions" performing "Don't Stop Believing", with Rachel and Santana and the others singing a few lines each.]**_

_**[Cut to Sam, all alone, looking at the camera, sitting in a living room somewhere.]**_ Yeah. "Don't Stop Believing" - that was everyone's mantra then. It probably sounded corny and lame or whatever, but for a group of kids from Nowheresville, U.S.A., that's made all the difference in the world. And here we all are, now.

* * *

_**And did you know each other prior to Glee Club? Or is that how you met?**_

Rachel: We knew each other long before that…We even took one random dance class together pre-high school, but we didn't actually hung out…we didn't go around in the same circles…

Santana: For starters, Rachel had no friends…

Rachel: Ye…hey!"

Santana: It's true, honey. You were an overachieving nerd who just had to be in every club in school, including the African American one…_**[Looks at the camera]**_. Anyway, the friends she ended up with were the ones from the Glee Club. In fact, she had this love-hate relationship with my best friend, Quinn, and for a while we thought there was some sexual tension there…

Rachel: Hey…!

Santana: But as it turns out, it was just real tension… mostly because my wife here is just too, too anal about everything…

Rachel: I am not…

Santana: Yeah, you are. It's what kept New Directions going actually. I must admit that. When Mr. Schuester had those premature mid-life crises or got sick or would disappear of to who knows where, auditioning or doing soul-searching, or deciding we needed to do Spanish songs and he had to wear a Matador outfit to prove it, you kept the rehearsals going, you prepared the set lists, you bullied people into staying, you whipped people into shape…

_**So she was the glue that kept everything together...**_

Santana: You could say that…and she was, is the glue that kept this family together, too. The one who never gave up, with me, with everything, and she raised my daughter as if she was her own, raised Blue really well…

_**But you have to give yourself credit to how Blue ended up as well…**_

Rachel: Yes, we made a great team… we still do.

Santana: Yeah, a great team. She was the light and I was the heat. And vice versa. Okay…that came out wrong…

Rachel: Sorry. She has this way of making even something like that sound…suggestive…

Santana: I do not.

Rachel: Remember when you used to call me 'Treasure Trail'?

_**What does that even mean?**_

Rachel: Exactly.

_**So was that your inspiration for "Music is Life Foundation" or M.I.L.F. for short? Which Blue and her sister, Suzie and to a lesser extent, Suzie's partner, Kate, eventually decided to manage, taking the group to new directions with their vision for arts for underprivileged New York kids?**_

Rachel: Well…that's another story.

Santana: A long story.

_**Indulge me.**_

Rachel: Okay. Well, I'd been living in New York for a while then. I'd moved to New York right after high school graduation to study and to work - it was my lifelong dream to go to New York and do Broadway and see, at the cusp of Broadway stardom, I suddenly had to undergo a throat operation back in my twenties that kind of made me question myself and the life I'd built for myself my whole life. The doctor told me he wasn't sure if I could sing again and even if I could eventually do so, he told me I could never sing as much or as high as I did prior to the operation. That threw me in a deep depression. I mean, I was Rachel Berry. My whole life was about music. What was I without it? Without it, I would have been a has-been who used to sing on Broadway. Or worse, maybe a never-was. Because I'd built a whole life around music, and only music, I hadn't actually considered a life without it. I had never even considered what would happen if I lost my voice permanently. I mean I had a slight bout of laryngitis in high school and that freaked me out enough to make me realize I would die without it. I'd also had some personal things going on?

_**Which was…? I mean…If you don't mind my asking…**_

Rachel: Um, well, I'd just started dating Santana then, and she was still living in Cali with this lovely, lovely daughter I completely adored and I was slowly realizing that I wanted that with her… I wanted to have a family, and that I wanted to have that family with her. Whether or not we expanded that family, or had another child or whatever, didn't matter to me, what mattered was there was thing that I hadn't actually thought of before, and so I was at a crossroads in my life. I was faced with all these choices that seemed to need some decisions.

_**And then what happened?**_

Rachel: Well, I did what I thought was best. I ran away. I went on leave from Broadway, then went to London to take on some West End projects and lived there maybe a year or so. I came back after realizing that I wanted to try something other than singing on Broadway and I wanted a job that could make me spend time with Suzie and stuff.

_**So you started teaching in Brooklyn…? **_

Rachel: Yes. I had my teaching license, I had some training, so I applied in Brooklyn, at Taft, and started to teach. San, Suzie and I moved to Brooklyn.

Santana: It was quite interesting for me, because my parents - they'd lived in Brooklyn for a while before I was born before they'd decided to move to Lima. I used to visit relatives in Brooklyn.

_**And did you, Rachel, teaching in Brooklyn, did that give you the idea for the Foundation?**_

Rachel: Eventually. That wasn't even in my head at that time. I just wanted to take a break from Broadway and West End and singing, and the doctor said I couldn't strain my vocal chords anyway. The teaching itself was kind of hard.

Santana: I was against it.

Rachel: Yes, San was against it. Vehemently. Tried to persuade me to take on another job but that.

Santana: But stubborn woman that she was, she insisted and so I couldn't do anything but support her.

Rachel _**[Smiles fondly at Santana]**_: For which I would forever love you for.

Santana _**[Grins]**_: I know.

_**So, was it smooth sailing when you started teaching in Brooklyn?**_

Santana: Hell, no.

Rachel _**[To Santana]**_: _San_… _**[To camera]**_ Heck, no. The students were your typical rebellious teenagers without a cause who had no interest in studying or passing each class or even graduating from high school, the school falling apart, funding always falling short, the teachers overworked and underpaid, as is common in most public schools, but there was this national singing competition and that gave me the idea to start a Glee Club at Taft…

_**The Brooklyn Beatz…**_

Rachel: Yes, the Beatz, with a "Z".

_**I remember you telling me you came up with an ingenious way to make everyone study and join the club?**_

Santana _**[Grins]**_: Easy "A"s.

Rachel _**[Nods]**_: Easy "A"s and ten thousand dollars - which was the prize money if they won Nationals. Everyone gets an "A" at the beginning of the term. But they have to keep the "A" by studying hard for the rest of the term, else they lose the "A".

_**That does sound clever.**_

Santana: Hells, yeah. Wish I had you for a teacher in high school, Rach.

Rachel: That would have been inappropriate…In fact, it would have been a felony.

Santana: You're right. _Dammit_.

_**I remember when I was making the documentary "The Learning Curve" for the "Brooklyn Beatz", you mentioning it had been a challenging, difficult time for you and the Beatz, but that it had been the most fulfilling time for you?**_

Rachel _**[Nods]**_: Yes, we had no funding, we had a beat-up van that basically run on everyone's determination and dreams of winning, a dank basement for a practice room, members who constantly bickered about song choices and didn't like each other, parents who despised the arts, and despised gay teachers even more…

_**I remember that. You lost your job over some silly little thing…**_

Santana: One of the conservative parents caught her kid with some other kid going at it like rabbits and blamed Rach for causing the gay…which was ridiculous…everyone knows it's all in the water…

_**[Rachel smiles and rolls her eyes.]**_

_**But your kids took a stand for you, didn't they? They had that one assembly, the last of the school year, where they were supposed to sing a song, it was right after you found out you got fired from Taft, and your kids refused to sing, and instead stood on the chairs in the auditorium and started saying they were gay and everyone else supported them and started saying they were gay, too. **_

Santana: I remember that. It was all over the local news. Then it went viral. Then it went national. Then your kids did that "Save the Arts" website and generated even bigger buzz. Then they competed at Nationals and placed second or something, but that just stoked their popularity.

Rachel _**[Smiles at the memory]**_: Yes, I remember that, too. I think that was right after we got married. The first time.

_**The first time?**_

Rachel: We got married twice.

Santana: She couldn't get enough of me.

Rachel: She wanted to make sure I was hers the first time, at City Hall, and the second time, in front of a minister.

_**That must have been a beautiful wedding.**_

**_[Pictures and clips of Rachel and Santana's Ohio wedding are shown.]_**

Santana: Yes. My aunt kept screwing up the words to the wedding ceremony.

Rachel: It was beautiful. It was a Jewish-Christian wedding. It was very romantic. It was also a surprise wedding, so.

_**That's wonderful. So what happened after the Beatz placed second during Nationals?**_

Rachel: Well, the Beatz suddenly had all these people wanting to interview them, or perform for them, and they even had an EP and they performed for the President once.

_**Wow. That sounds impressive. **_

Rachel: It was.

_**You must have been very proud. **_

Rachel: I was. I still am.

_**I remember during that time how much of an impact your work and music and Glee Club on your kids, on the Beatz. In fact, it singlehandedly brought some public education issues that a lot of schools had been having. It even helped Taft secure the funding it needed to help improve its facilities. Clearly you had a hand in this. I remember even the President had expressed admiration for you and hoped you would return to teaching. Did you ever go back to teaching after that?**_

Rachel _**[Pauses, stops to think about something, before she continues.]**_ At this time, I'd gotten this role-of-a-lifetime thing on Broadway, playing the lead on a Barbra Streisand tribute musical entitled "Evergreen"…

_**For which you won a Tony Award for…I mean you did eventually return to singing afterwards…**_

Rachel _**[Nods]**_: Yes. When Blue was in grade school. I started to start small, did the odd acting job here and there, but then I discovered voice acting.

_**Voice acting?**_

Rachel: Yes. At this point, I kind of realized I wanted to do things that my kids and grandkids could come watch. My agent started coming with offers to do voice work for some animated shows and films and at first, I wasn't sure about it, but it turned out very well, and those films went on to be critically acclaimed, award-winning huge hits and that was awesome.

Santana: Yeah. Blue loved those. I think she was tickled pink by the fact that she can hear your voice behind those animated characters. And she really loved that she has action figures of you, too.

Rachel: Yes. I'm actually most proud of those animated films than I ever am of the others.

Santana: Really?

Rachel: Yes. Because, well, Blue and Suzie loved them. And Beans thinks I'm a goddess.

Santana _**[Grins]**_: She does, doesn't she?

_**Going back to Taft…**_

Rachel: Yes. I had actually been offered a job back in Taft, but I had to turn it down because I had that play on Broadway, and Santana and I were already trying to decide whether we wanted more children or not, so I had to turn it down. I'd also realized that teaching in one school wasn't enough, that maybe I needed to do something else, something much more large-scale, to ensure that Arts Education would continue to impact on young people's lives like they did at Taft. So that's why I founded Music is Life Foundation. The name came from one of my former students at Taft, Zee, for whom music and Glee had such a profound impact, that he'd actually gone on a campaign to get me back to Taft, claiming that it was music that saved his life, it gave him an outlet, gave him a way out, opened up possibilities for him that he never knew existed. Music is Life became a center that opened a door for young people to explore their options, think about their dreams, build their dreams and take steps into making it a reality. Even the ones who weren't actively thinking of a career in the Arts, but who loved music anyway, found in Music is Life, a place where they could freely explore their interests in the Arts, without being judged for that. It kept the kids off the streets, kept them off drugs, gave them something else to do other than shoot up or get high or get wasted or get into trouble or whatever. The Board of Education was intrigued enough with how we were doing it and our success rate at least curbing teen violence, teen pregnancy, underage drinking and drug addiction through the Arts that they had the curriculum we designed for the Foundation replicated all over the East coast.

_**Yes. Music is Life has kind of metamorphosed over the years, hasn't it?**_

Rachel: Yes. It hadn't been smooth sailing. It was a labor of love all the way. We started small, with friends and family, San, San's parents, my parents, Quinn, Mike, Tina, Sam, Mercedes, Kurt our friends and former Glee club mates pitching in for the first part, with some friends, like San's co-worker, Miranda Vanderbilt, lending her building for almost next to nothing, the parents of our Taft kids donating old chairs, tables, some paint, stuff they didn't need at home, and our Taft kids volunteering their time and talent to the kids who'd come to hang out at the center. We had counseling, we had music, we had sports fests, we had concerts. Kurt's partner, Dave, took the reins from me for a while when I took a break from work to have Blue, and he took it in an amazingly new direction, doing crow funding, linking up with a youth cable channel, setting up a better website, doing fund-raising initiatives, setting up more regular newsletters and updates…And then when we moved back to Brooklyn, I started helping out again and we slowly expanded it, started offering formal music lessons for the more well-to-do people, with our music instructors coming from the fold itself. We'd hold little fund-raising concerts and stuff like that. It continued to be this modest little organization that helped young people, never losing sight of its mission and vision for making kids into well-rounded young adults with the help of the Arts.

_**And then Suzie and Blue came in. **_

Rachel: Yes, Suzie loved the idea behind Music is Life, and wanted to include dance into the mix. And some counseling. She studied psychology and found the idea of music, dance and counseling a winning combination. Music is Life was such a part of Blue's formative years that it wasn't really surprising she'd take an interest in it after that disastrous concert she was supposed to have that Christmas.

* * *

_**[Cut to the Music is Life Foundation building, which is located in the middle of Brooklyn. Inside, there is a reception, a lobby, and inside, there is much noise, young people coming in and out in shorts, tights, baggy jeans, shirts, jogging suits, sneakers, dance shoes. The unmistakable sounds of different kinds of music thump from every room.]**_

_**[Cut to Rachel standing in one room, behind which one can see Suzie teaching dance to a group of kids. The room is medium in size, bare but for a massive mirror on one side, and bags scattered on the corners or sides of the room. Loud music is playing as everyone tries to follow Suzie's dance moves.]**_

Rachel: So this is where Suzie teaches dance.

_**Is that the "Safety Dance"?**_

Rachel _**[Nods]**_: Yes.

_**Is that Mike Chang with her?**_

Rachel: Yes. He helps out with the center once in a while.

_**Has Suzie been doing it long?**_

Rachel: Um…not so long. She teaches dance here and then goes off to teach dance with Mike at his studio. They've struck up a partnership with each other that's worked out very well. They've actually choreographed a video or two or more I think, for MTV and VH1 and some for Broadway as well. I think they did one for "Kings of Leon". They also get to do commercials. They got a ten-minute gig for Samsung once, and a few other companies as well. There was a revival of, like, a new modern "Cats" that they were commissioned to choreograph as well.

_**I heard about that. It looked very refreshing. **_

Rachel: Yes.

_**[Cut to another room, where there is just one smooth, shiny black piano in the middle of a the room, on the bench of which a woman with olive skin and curly hair sits, playing the piano as a group of kids vocalize in front of her. An older woman in black stands beside the piano, leans lightly on it, teaching the kids as well.]**_

Rachel: This is the room where Kate teaches music. That's Shelby Corcoran teaching with her.

_**Shelby Corcoran? Isn't she an accomplished singer herself?**_

Rachel _**[Nods]**_: Yes. She's come out of retirement to volunteer at the center.

_**That's pretty awesome. [Silence] I'm kind of pretty starstruck now.**_

Rachel: D'you want to meet her?

_**Umm…Can I…? I mean…I don't want to impose…**_

Rachel: Oh, I could totally introduce her to you. If you want. After practice.

_**Okay. Wow. That would be great. Thank you.**_

_**[Cut to another room, where Blue is currently teaching a child how to play the violin. Camera zooms to Blue, in jeans and a shirt, in glasses and hearing-aid, oblivious to the camera.]**_

Blue: Okay, and then you just play it like this…

_**[Child plays the violin and a horrible shriek pierces the room]**_

Blue: Okay…your fingers are right…but I don't know what that sound is…

_**[Camera zooms out to reveal Rachel]**_

Rachel: So this is where Blue teaches.

_**So, what kinds of kids come to the Center?**_

Rachel: Oh, just about everyone from all walks of life really. Kids who've been abandoned, child abuse survivors, domestic abuse survivors, kids who've been bullied, whatever. Kids who would otherwise have been denied an opportunity to learn about music. What we do here is basically like an after-school program. Suzie calls the kids the starfish kids.

_**Starfish?**_

Rachel: Maybe you know the story…? There's this old man who takes a walk along a deserted beach one afternoon and he sees hundreds, maybe thousands of starfish washed up on the shore and as he takes a walk he sees this young boy running up and down the beach, picking up starfish and throwing them with all his strength in the sea. The old man watched him, perplexed, before he finally comes up to him and tells him, "What are doing?" And the boy says, "I'm throwing the starfish back into the sea so they don't die." The old man says, "Don't you think that's pretty pointless? For every starfish you throw back into the sea, hundreds more will die." The boy only smiles as he picks up another fish and then he throws the starfish into the sea and says, cheerfully, "I made a difference to that one!"

_**I think I've heard that one. **_

Rachel: Yes. Suzie told me that story once, when I was feeling down.

_**She seems like a wonderful young woman. **_

Rachel: She is. _**[For a few moments, Rachel seems lost in thought, as if recalling some long-lost memory before she turns to the camera and smiles]**_ Did you know starfish have no brains?

_**Umm… I did not know that. **_

Rachel: Neither did I. Starfish can change sexes too, apparently.

_**I did not know that either. **_

Rachel: Neither did I. My kids are full of interesting trivia like that. Santana likes to call us the Nerd Herd. Or alternately, the Geek Fleet.

* * *

**_[Cut to Rachel and Santana's living room in the present.]_**

_**Your center, your Foundation has enjoyed a resurgence of support from the community, hasn't it? I know for a time it struggled through funding and stuff. **_

Rachel _**[Nodding her head vigorously]**_: Yes, it's been a rough, uphill climb for everyone. I know we've enjoyed our share of detractors, the ones who believe music, the Arts is not necessary in public education. That it's not something that we should learn or teach our children. They say the Arts, music, serve no useful purpose. It's like those pretty things, jewels, accessories, those things that are pretty to wear and look at, but serve no useful purpose whatsoever.

_**But isn't that what beautiful things are?**_

Rachel: I'm sorry? What?

_**Um, beautiful things…they serve no useful, practical purpose sure, but they serve some other purpose, don't they? You mentioned it before.**_

Rachel: Yes, they do. They're beauty personified. They remind us of who we are, where we've been, what we can still be, helps us be the best that we can be. Art is important, Art is necessary, Art is what will still exist long after we're all gone, Art is what makes us human, what makes life worth living.

_**Something you have once told the Board of Education and I think maybe Congress, that one time they threatened to cut funding from schools. I remember you and Quinn made quite the team, with Santana as your legal advisor and consultant. **_

Rachel: Yes. It just needed to be said. The reason why our kids are what they are right now is the fact that we're feeding them auto-tuned, fastfood type, disposal music that stays in the head for hours but nobody remembers in a few months or years' time. I feel like we need to go back to the basics, teach our kids real music, teach them about life and love and loss and pain and redemption and finding yourself and the power of discovering the possibilities and potentials in life.

_**I think that's what endeared you to the president even more. I heard she's a Brooklyn native?**_

Rachel: Yes, she was.

_**So when did Blue finally get over that disappointment of that Christmas concert all those years ago? What finally changed her mind?**_

Rachel: Well, part of our "Music is Life" program is this film showing session we'd have like once a week or so. Some kids would come with their own pre-approved movies but sometimes, usually like the last week of the month, we'd show something inspiring, about people beating the odds. I used to bring Blue to Music is Life because I'd rather she would come with me and be able to spend time with me, than spend time with the babysitter - unless Suzie or Santana was around. At this time she was still depressed over the Christmas debacle so she wasn't speaking or playing or pulling pranks or making the other kids cry, which for us wasn't normal.

But the kids were wonderful. They'd come with all these DVDs, or they'd cut their own DVDs and show them at school. Bu this time, everyone was pretty familiar with Blue. Everyone adored her. Zee, Kenyatta, Akeem, Anferny, who were the regular volunteers of the Foundation, had taken quite a liking to our daughter, so they and everyone else had already noticed that Blue wasn't herself and was usually sulking in one corner, or just keeping quiet, not talking or playing with the kids. So one day, Zee and the others showed up with those animated films, the one about the rat that wanted to be a chef, the one about the penguin who couldn't sing, the panda who wanted to do kung fu against all the odds, the Chinese girl who disguised herself as a soldier to save her father's honor, the old man who strapped himself onto hundreds of balloons so he can fulfill his wife's lifelong dream of going to South America, the robot who fell in love with another robot…well, it took a while, and there was an underlying theme obviously, and through the child's frustration and depression, she could see that the possibilities are limitless.

_**Did that eventually make her go back to music?**_

No. Not yet. Once the Foundation kids exhausted their library of uplifting animated films, they turned to real life, and showed her movies, like this true-to-life story about the one-armed girl who only wanted to surf, the Jamaican bobsled team, this true-to-life story of this Australian man born without arms and legs who was able to do everything - from playing the guitar, to surfing, to skydiving, to swimming and so on…but what finally broke the spell was this simple black and white animated ad, of all things, about David Beckham. It had been simply done - just a hastily sketched kid walking around on a black-and-white world, with Beckham's voice in the background and how he found salvation in sports, and how that changed his life, introduced him to limitless possibilities. That ad ends with him saying "Impossible is Nothing"… Blue sat there, watching that ad and though she barely said anything, we saw a change in her then. I think that was around spring or fall of the next year.

_**And did she go back to music then?**_

Rachel _**[Shakes her head]**_: No.

_**Why was that?**_

Santana and Rachel _**[Looking at each other uncertainly, unsure of what to do or say next, before Santana turns to the camera]**_: Um, well, Blue started wondering who her father was.

Rachel: We…didn't know what to do about that…

* * *

**_A/N: _**

**_That's it for this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Kind reviews are welcome and will be much appreciated. Many thanks for your patience. I know some of you may have given up, but hope this was worth the wait._**

**_Apologies for the late update. As this is almost done (a chapter or more should do it) I took my time to write this chap, as even though it's done in my head, I ran into a brick wall as to how to go about illustrating the next part of Rachel and Santana's life. And also because like you, I hadn't wanted to say goodbye to this story. I wanted to show what happens next, but I didn't want to be stuck trying to tell everything that happens with them and Blue - as that would have taken years to write! But I was reading Max Brooks' "World War Z" (awesome book, I highly recommend it) and since I've been doing (and really love) documentaries as well, I decided to do this format._**

**_Anyway, hope you enjoyed and liked this new chap!_**

**_Also, to the reader who requested for Santana and Rachel as grandparents, hope this chapter answers that._**

**_Also, many thanks to kutee, picture of success and kickangel for reading and leaving reviews for the last chapter._**

**_Many thanks to DragonsWillFly for going over this as well._**

**_Also, I wrote this as a kind of tribute to Glee Season 1 - it's also apt as the new season of Glee will be premiering soon._**

**_In this regard, what is your favorite episode and performance on Glee? Leave your comments on the reviews page. Let's celebrate the return of Glee by recalling our favorite eps. :)_**

**_I will be updating the other stories as well - as long as inspiration hits me._**

**_P.S. - I am in the market for a new TV show to write fan fic for, anyone have any ideas? If you do, I'd love to hear your ideas. _**


	12. Part 3: Looking for Daddy

**"_All we have is all we want to be…"_**

* * *

Suzie: It was my idea.

_**Sorry?**_

Suzie: I mean, she got the idea from me, basically.

_**About what?**_

Suzie: About wanting to know who her father was… I mean, not directly, but at about this time, I'd wanted to know about who my father was. I mean, I'd wondered about him even before, when I was growing up, but my birth mom had suddenly gotten sick and I couldn't actually actively ask her who my father was. And I hoped I could ask her when she got better but she never got better, in fact, she got worse, and I remember I'd had to live with the grandparents for a while, in Ohio, because my Mom couldn't leave the hospital. I cannot think of my late mom actually, without thinking of hospitals, tiled floors, that clean, antiseptic smell, white lab coats and glasses, the steady beeping sound of machines keeping my mom alive, falling hair and rows and rows of bottles of medicine, and always being told I have to keep quiet or keep the noise down or behave because my mom is sick and exhausted and she needs rest. When my Mommy Rachel went into labor with Blue and she had to be rushed to the hospital, I was worried I might lose another Mom again and that freaked me out a lot. I mean, I barely remember my late mom now, but Mommy Rachel is the only other mother I've ever known, aside from Mommy Santana, so you can imagine the worry and anxiety and fear and doubts I had when she'd gone into labor with Blue.

But anyway, yeah, so my late mother got worse, instead of better and I couldn't ask her about my father. And my other mother, well, she'd started to retreat into herself, and started to take a sip of wine sometimes, started to smoke a bit - and I notice because I can smell the cigarette smell in her clothes, started staying up late, sleeping on the couch, sometimes forgot to pick me up from school, or forgot to pack me lunch or something, so I started to teach myself little things, realized I had to take care of myself, and take care of my mother also, because aside from work, she was terrible with everything else.

And then my mother died.

_**[A long silence, in which Suzie just seems to stare off into the distance for a long moment, before she resumes speaking, voice careful and slow, cracking a bit as she speaks.]**_

That kind of threw everything out of orbit for us. For all of us.

My mother was devastated.

My real mother was everything to her. _Everything_.

She was the world to her. And to lose her like that, slowly, painfully slowly until all that was left was an extremely thin, emaciated body that bore no resemblance to the one she'd loved in high school, was painful for her.

My mom stopped speaking for a while after that. I mean, well, she spoke, we talked, and she did her work, sure, and she fed me and clothed me and took care of me, but she wasn't like she was before. There was no small talk, no laughter, nothing. It felt a bit like she was going through the motions or something.

I guess a part of her was buried that day when my mother was buried.

I thought she'd never find happiness again.

When you're young, the concept of death is kind of…abstract. Impossible to grasp. Your mother used to be here, now she's not. She's somewhere else, maybe she'll come back, but you don't know when that will be. Heaven, hell, life after death, souls, these things were things that were a bit hard to understand for a three year old, so it was different for me.

But it was clear then that my mother was very, very sad and I didn't know how to make it all better.

Years passed, during which my mother kind of eventually tried to get over these things. She tried to be more involved and stuff. A few times I'd tried to bring up the subject of my father, but knowing my mother had a lot on her mind, well, I decided maybe it could wait.

Then I remember that one time when we went back to Lima. I don't remember now why we were there in the first place, but she'd kind of run into this old high school friend of hers, and as they kept running into each other, and the couple of times I'd seen them together, I'd noticed this spark in my mother that I hadn't seen since my late mother, and wouldn't see again after.

_**This was Ms. Rachel Berry?**_

Yes.

I don't know why, and I don't know if Mom had noticed it then, but for some strange reason I kind of thought they should definitely hook up or something…

It took a bit of doing, but they finally got together.

But it would take three long years before they actually move in together, and a couple more years before my Mom, after much dropping of hints and stuff, to actually pop the question to my Mommy Rachel.

That whole moving in with a new Mom, moving to New York, adjusting to Brooklyn, adjusting to a new school and new friends and everything else, well, I couldn't very well ask about who my father was, as well.

And then that whole thing with Taft happened, and Mom lost her job and we had all that publicity and interviews and my Mom doing Broadway and doing other jobs and stuff, and then them deciding to have Blue and Mommy San losing her job and us moving to Albany for a while, then us moving back to Brooklyn, well, there wasn't any opportunity to ask about who my father was, and things got busy and there was Kate, too, so.

_**Kate?**_

Kate, my partner. So yeah.

But then, I graduated from Empire State, and for the first time in my life, I had absolutely no idea what was I going to do. My girlfriend wasn't this pushy, clingy girl who wanted to U-Haul with me right away, in fact, she had wanted me to go and travel and meet lots of other people and stuff, so I was left with what was I going to do with my life? For a time I'd drifted from one job to the next, not really knowing what to do, while my girlfriend just kind of hit the ground running, working at a job she had always wanted to do.

Then, well, foolish me, I came across this passage while I was reading a book, that said you can't really know where you're going, unless you know where you're from, or where you came from, I forgot now the exact words.

Suffice it to say that the book had emphasized the importance of knowing about one's origins, in order to determine one's destiny.

At about this time, life had basically settled into a comfortable domestic one in my parents' house, so I thought maybe now would be the right time to ask about my father.

So one day, I'd gone home to Brooklyn fully intending to ask my parents who my father was.

_**And how did that turn out?**_

_**[Suzie is silent, unable to answer.]**_

* * *

_**[Cut to Rachel and Santana in the living room, answering the same question that was asked to Suzie.]**_

Rachel: It was…

Santana: Quite an experience.

Rachel: Quite an experience.

Santana: Some would say it was bordering on disastrous.

Rachel: Or perhaps calamitous.

Santana: Either way it was…

Rachel: Interesting.

Santana: Unforgettable.

Rachel: Maybe even challenging.

Santana: Or not.

_**[Silence ensues.]**_

* * *

Rachel pauses the video at that exact point and sits back on the couch, staring at the screen, of her and Santana silent and pensive, remembering that time many years ago when something that had seemed so innocuous and so inconsequential as wanting to know one's origins would turn their world upside down…

* * *

If truth be told Suzie coming to their house one day to casually ask to meet her father, while the family was gathered for one of their weekend family dinners, with Blue within earshot, was one of the most awkward things Rachel and Santana had ever encountered.

When she'd asked the question, right after Santana had asked Suzie about her latest job, an entry level job that she had already told Rachel she'd left, Suzie seemed to have wanted to divert the conversation in a different direction. Suzie liked to avoid discussions about her present career path, whilst Santana liked the very same discussions. Consequently mother and daughter would clash about this, the older woman concerned about her daughter's career trajectory, whilst the daughter feels like her mother's concern is too much like nagging her about something she isn't entirely sure about.

Family dinners at the Berry-Lopez household had been one of those things that the family had decided they should have at least once a week, on Saturdays. It had been Rachel's idea, since Santana was usually busy, Suzie had moved out and Blue had her own life as well. With Suzie moved out and sharing an apartment with her on-again, off-again girlfriend, Kate, Santana always busy with the firm, her work with the Human Rights Commission, and the many other commitments that a lawyer who has stood up for what she believed was good and right in the face of opposition had earned the respect of the community for fighting for the less fortunate and the oppressed, and Blue's schools, hobbies and friends taking up her free time, it had been Rachel who insisted the family have one of those.

Santana gave lectures and speeches at some universities and conferences and actually teaching a subject or two on human rights and social justice at the local college, meetings with politicians and lobbyists, phone calls at all times of the day and night, being out early and coming home late, bringing home work over the weekend and burying herself in her laptop typing up papers and briefs and so on. That particular day she had been in a good mood because her legal team had been making headway with a case involving a forty-year old African American inmate who had been wrongfully accused and sentenced to death in Alabama. Santana's legal team had worked round the clock to find evidence to prove his innocence, and all their research and investigations had yielded no results. Trips to Alabama, talks with witnesses, her team's tireless efforts though had finally yielded new DNA evidence that proved he was nowhere near the crime when it had happened, thus proving his innocence for the crime that had led him to death row some ten years prior. He had spent ten years of his life thus on death row appealing his case before Santana's organization had decided to pick his case up. Blue, now ten, on the other hand, had been enjoying a particular lazy Saturday afternoon, having forged a very strong relationship with the iPad that Santana had bought her despite Rachel's vehement opposition. Rachel is slowly realizing though that Blue's iPad is proving to be very useful for a variety of things - chief among these, an online dictionary (an English one, a English-Spanish one and a Hebrew one), a portable encyclopedia, and other things that could aid Blue, who had always been more a very unconventional learner, in learning. Now, she is busy chatting with friends online, whilst playing games, letting the rest of the family chat around her whilst she answers questions with impatient grunts, "yes"s, "no"s, "maybe"s, "sort of"s, "kind of"s and "sure"s. Rachel, in the meantime, is busy just watching Santana attempt to make something she claims is some form of spaghetti, some tuna casserole and salad, mindlessly attacking the lettuce and carrots as she mutters about how "fruited up" it was that after all these years she is still made to eat tasteless crap. Over the years, Santana's cooking skills had improved, but not by much, since Rachel had been the more domestic one of the mothers who had opted to stay at home for a few years in order to raise Blue, who had some special needs that only a stay-at-home mother could provide. It was Rachel who had always cooked everyone's meals, from even when they had been living apart those first few years, to the time they'd moved together, all the way to when Blue had been born and now a more precocious prepubescent.

Santana, now a few years older, had still looked as fit and every bit as beautiful as she had a few years ago, before they had even gotten married, and looking at her now, from her vantage point by the counter, sipping her tea, Rachel couldn't help but feel a little insecure. Though Santana insists that Rachel is as lovely as the day she had fallen in love with her, Rachel can't help feeling a bit different. The years of just staying at home, being a housewife and a homemaker, taking care of Blue and the rest of her family, were unquestionably a very fulfilling part of Rachel's life, but this same life had made Rachel put on a bit more weight, especially around the midsection, part of which had also been the result of childbirth. She had loose skin under her arms, the first signs of wattles on her neck, crow's feet on her eyes, eye bags, veins on her hands, varicose veins on her legs from years of wearing high heels, stretch marks on her abdomen. She had considered going under the knife, for work and for herself, but she finds that as she grows older, she has grown more cautious, a bit more afraid to take risks with her life, however non-existent the threat a surgery had, because of a family and a child that she has to raise with Santana. She had just one routine facelift surgery that did nothing to assuage feelings of insecurity and uncertainty brought on by impending middle-age, menopause and the drying up of interesting roles for older women outside of grandmother, aunt or mother. She had spent her years changing diapers, cooking meals, baking cookies and cakes, sending their kids to school and picking them up after, doing laundry, vacuuming, doing the groceries and sometimes, when she is all alone, she feels this - restlessness, this boredom, this feeling of life passing her by as she stays at home doing all the housework or waits for her child to finish school or waits for Santana to come home or for Suzie to come for a visit. She feels this growing insignificance, feeling her value and importance in the life of her family diminishing whilst Santana is off saving the world, Suzie is off finding herself and Blue, despite initial challenges, is off learning, ever so slowly, with much help from her family, teachers, friends and classmates, that she can have a normal life in spite of what God gave her. Rachel looks at her family now and feels proud of what she and Santana have been able to accomplish, and yet, at the same time, she feels this regret that she has not done more for herself as well, her success on Broadway, at Taft, at MILF, with the New York Board of Education dimming in the face of the kind of life the rest of her family is enjoying outside the house. Sometimes, and Rachel would not admit this to anyone else, she feels this growing suffocation, this anxiety at the turn her life has gone, an unexpected one that she feels ambivalent and vaguely unhappy about. It is hard to articulate this to Santana, who is never more at the top of her game than now, when she has gained the respect of colleagues and detractors and is actually at the peak of her career. Mostly because she thinks maybe Santana would not understand.

It is at this point, with Rachel lost in her own thoughts, Santana busy with dinner, Blue busy with her game, when Suzie asks the question. Santana, and then Blue had paused. There had been a silence then in the kitchen and it is the silence that Rachel notices and it brings her out of her thoughts and into the present, when Suzie repeats what she has said. Santana does not know what to say. Blue looks at everyone, trying to disguise her curiosity. When Rachel realizes what Suzie has said, she herself does not know what to say.

For her part, Santana chooses to ignore the question, choosing instead to continue with the cooking, muttering something about wanting the spaghetti _al dente_, just like what was shown on the Food Network.

Meanwhile, Blue slowly, quietly and discreetly gets off the stool by the counter, iPad in hand, heading off to the living room. Blue is all of ten but she exhibits the same kind of eerie precociousness her older sister, fifteen years older than her, had exhibited at the same age. Already the younger child looks and acts like her older sister, idolizing her to a certain degree, although the two also have some moments when they bicker like typical sisters.

As Blue disappears behind the door, Santana continues, saying, "To the tooth."

Rachel surreptitiously looks out of the corner of her eye to see Suzie looking at Santana with growing frustration and irritation. Rachel looks at one, then the other, before she clears her throat and asks, carefully, "To the tooth?"

Santana nods, refusing to look either one in the eye.

"_Al dente_ means 'to the tooth' in Italian, it means the pasta should be firm yet still be tender when eaten," Santana says now, as she drains the pasta, making a face as steam comes out. Then she returns to the Ceasar salad that she is making, looks up at Rachel and says, "Did you know the Ceasar salad was invented by some Mexican guy named Ceasar Cardini?" When Rachel does not answer, Santana says, "Ugh, you're right, I'm beginning to sound like a _nerd_. What do you think about us going to Legoland with Blue for the summer?"

Rachel swallows. "Legoland sounds nice," she says, knitting her eyebrows, confused, at Santana.

"Yeah, Legoland is nice, I saw on the news that it has those nice bedrooms and restaurants and tables and chairs made of Legos and stuff like that," Santana says, grabbing a bell pepper for no reason and attacking it with the knife.

"Mom, did you hear what I just said?" Suzie asks now, frustrated.

Santana doesn't answer, instead she drops the knife on the chopping board with an angry thump and goes to the kitchen sink to wash her hands.

"Mom," Suzie says now, elongating the word, a slight whine in her tone, begging Santana to listen to her.

"_What?!_" Santana snaps now, whirling around, eyes narrowed as she looks at her daughter.

Suzie falters when she sees Santana's expression. She opens her mouth, closes it again, sighs and says, "I…" She stops and says, voice trailing off at the end of the sentence, "I…just want to know who my father is…"

Santana looks at her coldly now, and says, "What happened to your last job?"

Suzie stops, stares at her, says, "My…what?" before realization dawns on her and she looks at Rachel and says, in disappointment, "Mom…you _told_ me you wouldn't tell…?"

Rachel colors and says, "I didn't…"

Santana folds her arms in front of her now and says, "Your mom didn't have to tell me, my friend, the one who gave you that job, told me. You remember her? She gave you that job. At my recommendation."

"Mom, I'm sorry about that, but doing research on kinesiology at a university isn't something I'm interested in doing," Suzie says now.

"Then what are you interested in then?" Santana asks.

Suzie shrugs. "I don't know yet. But I do know I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a lab doing research and stuff. I appreciate your help Mom, but I can find my own jobs, you didn't have to bother."

"Yes, shit dead-end jobs that pay shit wages," Santana says now.

"Mom, volunteering at the community center doesn't count as a job, nor is it shit, per se," Suzie says now.

Santana sighs. "See, that's the thing! Volunteering is for losers. It's for people who don't know what they want to do with their lives…"

"San…" Rachel says now, sensing that if the two didn't watch it, the conversation might take a turn for the worse.

Santana looks at her now and says, "I didn't mean it like that, babe…"

"It's not for losers!" Suzie says now. "I like volunteering, Mom. It fulfills me, it…"

"You have a dance degree from a fine university and you're wasting all your talents and potential on…"

Suzie begins to correct her, "It's _not_ a dance degree, well, it _is_ a dance degree and more…but it's…"

"San, maybe we should…" Rachel begins again.

Suzie continues, "And I'm not wasting my talent…I'm just trying to…"

"Yes, what _are_ you trying to do?" Santana demands now.

"I'm…" Suzie begins now before she hesitates, unable to go on.

"You're _what_?" Santana asks.

"I'm…" Suzie stammers.

"What?" Santana prompts her again, tone vaguely mocking. "Sowing your wild oats? Ruining your life? What?"

"San…" Rachel tries again. She notices that Santana has that look - narrowed eyes, pursed lips, eyebrows raised. This is not going to end well, she thinks. Most of the arguments between Santana and Suzie never end well.

"You don't understand…" Suzie says now.

"Well then explain it to me like I'm a five year old," Santana says now, folding her arms in front of her. "Because I don't understand how a very smart young woman such as yourself is just bouncing from one job to the next…"

"Mom, I'm not bouncing from one job to the next…you've got it all wrong…"

"Would you prefer _coasting_, then?" Santana says now. "You're coasting through your life, young lady. You're slacking off, you're drifting…you're going nowhere fast…"

"That's not true…that's not true at all…Will you just…" Suzie says now with a hint of desperation and defensiveness in her voice as Santana drones on and on, launching into one of her trademark church-worthy sermons for Suzie. When Santana doesn't stop, Suzie all but screams, "Will you just _listen_ to me!"

Her voice shatters the kitchen and Santana and Rachel stop and look at her.

And Rachel looks at her. Really looks at her. She sees Suzie for what she is now. She is tall. Standing in in front of Santana, Santana has to look up at her to talk to her, but Santana makes up for the difference with a presence that people, including Rachel, have found impossible to ignore. Santana looks at her now, hands moving to her hips as she stares her daughter down, eyes narrowed, back straight, feet apart, chin up, nose in the air. She flips her hair in that way that she sometimes does, long wavy hair cascading down her back, and Rachel can see it, Suzie swallowing, Suzie backing down, afraid she might have crossed the line. She drops her head now, embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she mutters, "I'm sorry, Mom…I…"

Then she looks up again, and Rachel can see it, the vulnerability, the confusion, the feeling of being lost, all in Suzie's face. Suzie had already expressed her confusion, her indecision, her feelings of being lost, of not knowing what to do with her life. Suzie had always more comfortable talking to Rachel about personal things, a thing that Santana has not begrudged her, knowing that at least if Suzie is able to talk about the most personal things with Rachel, then it helps keep her out of trouble. Over the years, Rachel has served as a bridge between mother and daughter, being the person who tries to let the other see what the point of the other is. She sees the indecision clouding Suzie's blue eyes now, as she debates whether to bring up what she has meant to bring up with Santana. She runs a hand on her long blonde hair, swallows again, and says, "Mom…I love you…and I get that you're worried, you're concerned about me, but honestly, I'm fine, but I just…I don't know what I want out of life right now, Mom. I thought I knew what I wanted out of life…but now I'm not so sure…and... I'm not like you, Mom. You knew right off the bat what you wanted out of your life. I didn't. I don't. I still don't. And I need time for that. I'm just not like you, Mom. I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I'm a big disappointment…I'm sorry I let you down…"

Santana's face softens then as she says, "Suzie…"

Suzie puts her hand up and says, "And I feel like the reason why I don't know where I'm going is because I don't know where I've been…"

Santana looks at Rachel now, and says, in an accusing tone, "You've been filling her head with these crazy ideas again, haven't you?"

Rachel looks at her in disbelief, feeling miffed and hurt Santana would even suggest such a thing and she says, in exasperation, "Oh, for crying out loud, San. No. She got that all by herself."

Suzie quickly says, "No, Mom didn't give me all those ideas. _You_ did. Mommy Britt did…"

"We did?" Santana asks, incredulously.

Suzie nods and says, "Mom said in one of her videos that it's nice to know where you've been to know where you're going…and stuff…"

Santana closes her eyes then, pinches the bridge of her nose, takes a deep breath and mutters, "Ugh, Brittany and those stupid videos…"

"They're not stupid," Suzie says defensively now, looking hurt and slightly offended.

"_San_," Rachel says now, more firmly. "Don't…"

Santana's eyes open, realizing the error of her comment and she says, "I'm sorry….I didn't mean it like that…I…"

"It's okay, Mom," Suzie says. "But…I kind of just…want to meet my…father…"

She ends the last part of her sentence in a whisper and it would be comical to see the very tall Suzie cower in the face of Santana's unmistakable annoyance and impatience and what Suzie thinks are the first signs of anger. It is not the first time that Suzie has actually brought up the idea of her father, nor the first time that Santana has reacted thus. But it seems like it is the first time that Suzie has looked determined to find out who her father is.

Santana stands there, looking like she is about to explode, before she lets the breath come out of her nose and she simply says, "No."

"No?" Suzie asks, taking a step forward.

It had been building to this, Rachel thinks, the weeks and months of tension between mother and daughter, the little arguments, the innocuous comments about Suzie's employment choices, Suzie's stress, her fear that Santana is disappointed with her - all of this, culminating in this. Rachel takes a step forward as well, putting herself between mother and daughter.

"Umm," Rachel says now. "We…know you'd one day want to know who your father is…your mother and I talked about it and…"

Suzie looks at Rachel and asks, hopeful, "You did?"

Santana looks at Rachel sharply and says, with irritation, "Stay out of this, Rach."

Rachel bites the sharp retort back from her tongue, feeling annoyed at Santana brushing her off and stalks out of the room, leaving Suzie and Santana to erupt into an argument. An errant thought comes to her suddenly, that lately Santana seems to be taking her, her efforts, her opinions, for granted. It hadn't been the first time Santana had dismissed her during a discussion. She sighs, tries to push the thought down, refuses to entertain it.

Instead she thinks about Suzie. Suzie is a big girl, Rachel thinks, she can handle her own battles.

"Why do you always have to be like that?" Suzie demands of Santana.

Santana purses her lips, equally as stubborn and defiant as Suzie as Suzie says, "Why do you have to be so…so…_mean?_"

"_Ugh_, what do you want from me?" Santana asks in annoyance.

"I just want to know who my father is," Suzie repeats now, more firmly. "I don't get what the big deal is. I'm old enough to know who he is."

"Why do you want to know who he is? He was your donor. That's all you need to know. I don't get how meeting him would help with your so-called problems now. You think that will help you figure out what you want to do?" Santana asks. "You think that will help get you in the right track? Because I don't think he had any hand in messing up your life. You did that all by yourself."

Suzie lets out a frustrated sigh.

* * *

Rachel does not hear the rest of the conversation, only a muffled, loud conversation as she plops down on the couch next to Blue. Blue looks up briefly from the game she is playing and smiles at her mother, and Rachel smiles back, ruffles her hair. Blue continues to ardently play the game, tip of her tongue to one side of her lips, thumbs flying all over the screen, her short, silky hair falling over her face. She is hunched on the couch, cross-legged, tanned body clad in a shirt and shorts.

"They at it again?" Blue asks, pushing her glasses up as she says so.

Rachel smiles. "Yes." When they hear the muffled shouts, Rachel adds, "Quite enthusiastically, I might add."

Blue grins. "Not going to referee this time, Mom?"

"Nah, let them have it out, you know how those two are," Rachel says.

Blue nods. "Yep, I sure do."

Rachel watches Blue play on the iPad before she asks, "What are you playing? Is that that game Venus Flytraps versus Zombies? Which I specifically asked you _not_ to play?"

Blue sighs. "Aaaaw, Moooom!"

"You know how violent those are, they might make you do violent…" here Rachel pauses, watching Blue play the game before she says, "_Things._"

"It's _Plants_ versus _Zombies_, Mom," Blue says now. "And it's not like I'm going to get all undead on our non-existent plants or anything…And Mommy Tana says I can play it. She says it's okay."

Rachel nods, rolling her eyes. "Of course she did." Blue idolizes Santana, and of course, Santana adores Blue, so if Rachel says "no" to anything, Blue just goes to Santana, who almost always says "yes" to whatever she requests.

As the shouts in the kitchen subside, Rachel asks, "So, what's up?"

Blue is silent for a while before she says, softly, "I'm okay."

They are silent for a while, as Rachel watches Blue play, before Blue casually says, "This kid at school, he came up to me during recess and asked me, 'What color are you?'"

Rachel's breath catches. She sits back, not knowing what to say. It had never been an easy life for Blue, what with her not being as normal physically as the other children, but it seems to have made her be more determined to prove to the other kids that she was as normal as they were. She had insisted on playing with the other kids, despite such rigorous activities making her wheeze and out of breath and almost doubled over in exhaustion, sweaty and hair plastered all over her face. The other kids used to make fun of her, but she'd quickly earned some admirers when she showed them she wasn't somebody to be trifled with. And though lately, she's given up her love of music since that disastrous Christmas concert they had, she is slowly regaining her confidence again.

It also helped that Santana and Suzie were two of the most overly protective relatives in the world, terrifying the other kids with their combined glower and threats. Omega was a nice school with a zero tolerance policy on bullying, but even the school administration couldn't protect everyone from surreptitious bullying. Over the years, Blue had learned to deal with the bullying and the curious, sometimes rude stares they get whenever she or Santana drop her off to school or when they go out for groceries or go to the park, or the rude questions they get when they are out. Over the years, they have received some annoying comments, such as people saying mixed ethnic or racial couples produce gorgeous offspring, mentioning Jennifer Beals or Wentworth Miller or Lisa Bonet or Lenny Kravitz. She finds it annoying that some people find it perfectly acceptable to tell her their theory that biracial people are either unbelievably beautiful or unbelievably ugly or unappealing, like it's some major discovery they just feel the need to share.

It is the same experience she'd had when Suzie was younger. Friends, acquaintances, random strangers would give them confused looks, as if to say, "How come neither of your parents look like you?" Santana had told her that when Suzie was a toddler, all blonde and blue-eyed and very Brittany-like, people at public places would wonder why Santana wasn't white like Suzie. The reverse is true for when Rachel is out with Blue, who looks a bit more like Santana than anything else. When people find out that Rachel is Blue's mother, people wonder why Blue is not white just like her mother, a situation that Santana never experiences when _she_ is the one out with Blue, since Santana gets a lot of those "Oh, your daughter is so adorable" instead.

Rachel thinks she wants to hunt down whoever asked the offensive question to Blue and give her a piece of her mind, but then Blue says, "We have this homework - it's called, 'What Does Your Dad Do?' and we have to take our dads to school and tell the other kids what he does but…" and here Blue sighs, looks up at Rachel with eyes that are so much like Santana's, and says, "But I can't bring one 'cause I don't have one because I don't have a daddy."

Rachel thinks about it for a moment, before she says, "Can't you take someone else?" at about the same time Blue says, "Can I meet my daddy?" and then they both stop, Rachel embarrassed, Blue looking up at her, curious and hopeful, Santana's eyes boring deep into her own.

They would have stayed at that awkward situation, had it not been for Blue's mobile phone ringing, announcing her friends from Omega wanting to hang out with her. Blue quickly asks permission from her and from Santana right before the doorbell rings and she is out of the door before either parent can say yes.

In a few moments, she hears the door slam again, and realizes Suzie has walked out in a huff. Minutes later, she hears Santana's footsteps, a muttered, "I have to get some air" and she hears the door slam again.

She thus finds herself all alone on a late Saturday afternoon, with only the ticking of the clock and the distant roar of cars for company.

Rachel sighs.

"Alone again naturally," she tells herself as she leans back on the couch and feels the boredom set it again.

Blue decides to have a sleepover with her friends, Suzie does not come back for dinner and Santana comes home late.

* * *

That night, after Santana comes home, and in between whispered apologies from Santana and repeated reassurances that Rachel is _not_ fat, as they lay naked between the sheets, Santana holding Rachel in her arms, Rachel broaches the subject of letting Suzie meet her father again, and Santana grows cold, flatly saying, "No."

"Well, why not?" Rachel demands now, as Santana lets her go, gets up, grabs her robe and stalks to the bathroom.

Rachel sits up, covering herself with the sheets, as she waits for Santana. When she hears a flush, water being turned on and off, and Santana coming out, tying her robe more tightly around herself, before she slips into the bed and wraps her arms around Rachel again.

"Well, why the hell not?" Rachel repeats the question when Santana stays silent.

"Ugh, not you, too," Santana says now, irritated, unwrapping her arms around Rachel and turning away from Rachel to sulk on her right side.

Rachel smiles. They've lived together long enough for her to know Santana's moods. She waits for a few beats before she turns over, molds her body to Santana's back, running her hand on Santana's body. At first Santana doesn't move, continues to sulk. In a matter of moments though, Santana begins to respond to Rachel and Rachel moves closer, feels Santana's touch and she moves her head, pulls down Santana's robe and puts her lips to Santana's naked shoulder. She hears the moan that escapes from Santana's lips and it encourages Rachel to plant another kiss, this time, on Santana's neck. Against her will, Santana lets out another appreciative moan and Rachel moves over to kiss her on her jaw.

"Ugh, why do you always do that?" Santana mutters now as she moves to lie flat on her back and lets Rachel bury her face on Santana's neck.

Rachel looks up and into Santana's eyes and grins. "What?"

"_That?_" Santana says now.

Rachel gives her her most innocent smile and says, "I'm not doing anything."

"Yeah, you are," Santana insists now. "You're doing that thing you're doing when we're about to get into an argument and you don't want to…"

But Rachel cuts her off midsentence, grabs her and kisses her some more. In a few more seconds, Santana has rolled over and on top of Rachel, Rachel's arms wrapped around her and they are kissing each other again.

In the middle of all that kissing, Rachel pulls away and whispers, "Why don't you want Suzie to meet her father?"

Santana groans, lets her head fall on Rachel's shoulder before she looks up again. "See? This is exactly what I meant."

Rachel chuckles softly before she kisses Santana again. "Honey, it was a perfectly legitimate question. She's twenty five. I think she's old enough to know. Don't you think she at least deserves to know who her father is? I don't think it counts as some kind of life-threatening, world-ending…_thing_…"

Santana sighs. "Baby, it's not that…"

Rachel tucks a stray hair behind Santana's ear as she looks into Santana's eyes. "What is it then?"

Santana sighs again, shrugs, tries to speak, thinks first, before she says, "I don't know. It's just _weird_. I mean the guy was basically just a sperm donor. The only contribution he made was his sperm, I mean all the parenting basically came from you and me. I don't get why she would want to meet the sperm donor."

Rachel is quiet for a few seconds, reaching out to cup Santana's face in her hand. There are lines on Santana's face now, though a regimen of creams, gels, lotions, herbal teas, a much more vegetarian diet at Rachel's insistence, when Santana's blood pressure had shot up one time and she'd felt dizzy after a particularly hearty meal of steak, and the family doctor had demanded a healthier diet, had given Santana a healthier, albeit much older appearance. Santana's beauty has not diminished in the least though and now, only bathed in the distant glow of streetlights outside, Santana still looks beautiful. Rachel's heart skips a beat as Santana smiles at her. Rachel knows without a doubt that she still loves this woman.

"I know honey," Rachel whispers now.

"And you've done a wonderful job," Santana says, leaning over to kiss Rachel.

Rachel kisses her before she pulls back and says, "Don't distract me, San…"

Santana grins, her hands wandering to Rachel's waist, before it stops at her hip. "Distract you? _I'm_ the one _distracting_ you?"

Rachel looks at her and says, "I still don't understand why you can't just give Suzie what she wants. She…"

"Ugh, can we just drop this please," Santana says, exasperated.

"Honey, I…"

"Look, just drop it," Santana says now, voice rising as she rolls off Rachel and turns over again.

There is silence again. Lying there naked beside Santana, Rachel feels particularly vulnerable, and she gathers up the sheets around her, feeling cold, missing Santana's warmth, her nearness, her arms around her. Santana doesn't move, and in a few minutes, her breathing evens out, so she thinks Santana has fallen asleep, so she sighs, closes her eyes, and tries to go asleep, wondering what the big deal is - if Suzie wanted to meet her father, well, sperm donor really, then far be it from them to keep it from her. If truth be told though, she knows Suzie has started wondering about her own father when Beth had gotten in touch with Quinn, then suddenly calls Rachel up, wanting to meet up with Rachel, since they would technically be related by way of Shelby Corcoran, Rachel's birth mom. Rachel had understood then why Beth wanted to get in touch with Quinn, even without Beth having to explain it to her, because Rachel had felt that also, once, many years ago, when she'd sought Shelby out. That had proved close to bittersweet, even a bit anti-climactic - all imagined ideas of Shelby happily wanting to be part of her life erased when Shelby had not shown any indication of wanting to be part of her life, and instead chooses to adopt Beth, and quietly disappears, only to re-appear once again to teach briefly and then disappear again. Quinn and Beth's reunion hadn't been the same happy reunion Beth had probably imagined it would be, but at least Quinn had made more of an effort. And thanks to Beth, Shelby had to also tentatively and awkwardly join them sometimes for cups of coffee or the random trip to Luigi's for pizza and burgers. It took months at Luigi's or some random coffee shop for the awkwardness and overall surrealness of having Beth and Shelby come into Quinn's life, and by extension, Rachel's life, and into her family's as well, but it had been a chance for Quinn and Beth to talk, to mend broken pasts, and look at having a present and a future in which they could tentatively try to be part of each other's lives with no pressure at all on each one, whilst Rachel and Shelby had a chance to talk as well. It hadn't been like what anyone had imagined it would be, but having everyone's life expand, having Beth and Shelby as their quasi-family delighted the younger ones, Suzie and Blue accepting them with open arms, making it easier for the older women to be more comfortable. But Rachel had no doubt that this also would have probably made their children start asking about their own family history. It hadn't helped that Rachel had her two gay dads, and Santana had her father and mother, and Quinn had Jeffrey, and though Suzie and Blue had both grown up getting used to different kinds of families, Rachel knew it was bound to come up sooner or later. They went to schools that, although very progressive, still couldn't shield their children from other inquisitive children with straight parents curious why Suzie and Blue had two gay moms, and why Suzie and Blue were related even though Suzie was blonde and blue-eyed and Blue had dark, curly hair, hazel eyes and tanned skin. Suzie had first started to ask the question years ago, when she had been young, but Santana had, time and time again, deftly avoided the question. Blue though had been more persistent and combined with kids asking her what color she is, had left Rachel stumped for a good way to answer the question. Even though Rachel had grown up with interracial parents, and had her own share of inquisitive looks and questions, nothing had prepared her for how her own children would have the same kind of issues, too. She starts to pick at imaginary lint on the sheets and sighs.

Santana must hear her sigh, as well, because she flops on her back, is silent, before she turns to her side, puts a hand on Rachel's stomach, starts to rub her stomach, before she mutters, "I'm sorry."

Rachel puts a hand on Santana's face and says, "It's okay. I'm sorry, too."

Santana adjusts herself to Rachel's side and Rachel puts her arm around Santana so that Santana is resting on Rachel's shoulder.

Rachel speaks as she slowly rubs Santana's shoulder. "I get what Suzie's feeling…"

Santana looks at her. "How so?"

Rachel shrugs. "Well, I remember when I was younger than she was and wanting to know who my real mother was…"

Santana nods, before pointing out, "Yeah, and look how _that_ turned out."

"I know," Rachel concedes. "But we can't make that decision for Suzie. We can't decide we know what's best for her. "

"But you're like that with Blue. We _always_ decide what's best for Blue," Santana points out. "You're like, in the running for stage mom of the century."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Rachel says, hitting her as Santana chuckles. "Blue's ten. She doesn't know what she wants. She gets to make her own decisions when she's…twenty or thirty or something."

Santana chuckles. They fall silent again.

"You are though, baby," Santana says now. "I mean, I mean you're like the most wonderful mom I know, but you do know you're too overprotective of Blue…"

It's one of those discussions they've had a few times. Since it's Santana's second time as a mother, she seems more laidback, more permissive, more willing to let the younger daughter be freer, be more adventurous, be more open to try new things, whereas Rachel is much more protective, making Blue wear layers of clothing during winter, and loads of sun cream, and other protective gear, during the summer, and making her go through emergency earthquake and fire drills, despite repeated assurances from school administration that the likelihood of either event happening was next to nil.

As Rachel slowly rubs Santana's shoulder, Santana says, "I understand why Suzie wants to get to know her father…it's just…" She falls silent again, and Rachel stays silent, waiting for Santana to elaborate.

"I mean…I don't mind her wanting to meet the sperm donor, that's her right, it's her prerogative but…"

Rachel looks at her. "But what?"

Santana is silent. Then she speaks.

"It's just…I feel like her meeting the donor would…fuck up everything we've built, you know?"

Rachel stops, looks at her, and asks, "What do you mean?"

Santana sighs. "I don't know…I can't explain…the guy might suddenly get this idea that he might want to be part of the family or something, I don't know…"

"Aw, honey, that's just…ridiculous," Rachel says now. She looks at Santana more intently now, her gaze searching and probing. "Honey, what is this _really_ about …?"

Santana is silent at first, before she says, "Seriously? I feel like we're not enough for Suzie…"

"Honey, I'm sure we are…Suzie just wants to find out who her father is," Rachel says now, although the thought had passed through her mind as well. "I mean whatever happens you're still her mother and nothing's going to change that. I mean, I think I'd be more worried than you are. I'm the stepmom, remember?"

Santana looks at her now. "Baby, you're the stepmom she completely adores and will go to hell and back for. I highly doubt she'll ditch you for a guy she barely knows."

As they talk well into the night and Rachel manages to assuage Santana's fears of parental inadequacies, Santana reveals that aside from her fears, she doesn't exactly know who the donor is.

When Rachel gives her a puzzled look, Santana sighs and tells her how Brittany had said she'd take care of the sperm donor, how she'll keep the identity secret, and will reveal it only when needed.

"It was Brittany being Brittany, you know?" Santana explains now, in Brittany's defense. "As long as we agreed the donor had good genes, was smart, disease-free and didn't have any disease that could be passed on to Suzie we were good." When Rachel doesn't say anything, Santana hastily adds, "He was just a donor. It didn't really matter that much to me. I was kind of busy and you know how Brittany gets and she really wanted to have a baby, so I just said yes. I just wanted her happy, so. I mean I still have the name of the sperm bank and our doctor and her clinic back in Cali, and we don't even know if he's still alive or whatever…I mean for all we know he's all packed up and living in Timbuktu. I don't want Suzie disappointed in case the guy's some asshole who doesn't want his progeny seeking him out or something. I don't want to let Suzie down. I'd feel really bad if she'd get hurt by some asshole who isn't even remotely interested in meeting her."

Rachel hugs Santana tighter and kisses her on the cheek. "I think she'll be fine."

They fall into comfortable silence again, before Santana asks Rachel, "What do we do?"

"What do you want to do?" Rachel asks.

Santana sighs. "I don't know…"

Rachel hugs her tightly. "Honey, she's just trying to figure out her life. I mean, I thought the only thing I wanted to do was do Broadway the rest of my life when I was young. But that's changed. And you certainly didn't know what you wanted to do with your life when you were her age." Here Rachel smiles remembering that time. It had been this very same confusion Santana had - of figuring out her own life, that had led her to Rachel and Rachel's bed one drunken night all those years ago, a night that would both would try to forget as they tried to lead their own separate lives, but finding out, years later, both older and possessing a life's worth of experiences between them, that it was a night neither could forget. Santana leans over now to kiss Rachel softly and Rachel responds as gently, wanting Santana to feel with her body what she sometimes can't say with words.

As she pulls back and holds Santana close, Rachel whispers, "Just tell her the truth. And if she still wants to find out who her father is…then we just let the chips fall wherever they may. The kids have to make their own decisions about this, too."

Santana moves to kiss Rachel and Rachel responds in kind. Santana sighs and rests her head on Rachel's shoulder. After a silence, Rachel speaks up.

"I think your other daughter might want to know who her father is, too."

Santana looks up. "What?"

Rachel briefly recounts the conversation in the living room whilst Santana and Suzie were arguing, punctuating her comment about the boy punctuated by a light expletive that never surprises to amuse Santana.

Santana sighs after Rachel finishes recounting the story and then she declares, "Okay, fine, you've convinced me. Let's just make like we're ripping off a bandage from a wound and do both at the same time. It would be more convenient that way."

As Rachel smiles in satisfied delight and starts to kiss Santana more fervently, and Santana responds in kind, moving on top of Rachel, Santana mumbles, "But I'm telling you this is a bad idea. This is a _really_ bad idea."

Rachel moans as starts to move against Santana and she whispers, "Shut up and kiss me."

Santana chuckles softly as her fingers slide down and come into contact with Rachel's warmth. As Rachel's breath catches, she has no idea how this decision would change their lives.

* * *

And so it was so that Santana and Rachel had both ended up sitting both their children down in the living room to discuss their children's donors. Suzie and Blue actually had taken the news much better than either had expected. However, Suzie being Suzie, she hadn't let such a trifling thing as Santana not knowing who the donor is, get in the way of her knowing who the father is.

It takes some hours of going over things pertaining to Suzie's conception, medical bills, other documents, a few phone calls, some internet research, some emails, a little help from Sam and Mike, before her search for the donor yields results.

Whilst Suzie is busy finding out who her father is, Rachel and Santana find that finding out who Blue's father was, was an easier task. Rachel and Santana had the information and so they'd just contacted the sperm bank. Sadly, the bank had informed them the donor, who had been older, had died from an undisclosed accident a couple of years ago. Upon further research, Rachel and Santana had found that the man had left some videos uploaded online though, and so they had shown Blue some videos of the man, a tall, muscled African American Jewish man named Orlando Sandberg with a big Afro, basejumping, skydiving, hang gliding, sandboarding, wake boarding, snowboarding, white water rafting. No doubt his accident may have been from his love of extreme sports. The man didn't seem very talkative, but he had a ready grin and a ready laugh and he had a niceness and a charm around him that made Rachel and Santana feel a bit sorry they hadn't met this man who had contributed to Blue's life. Blue had watched videos of the man on the internet and after finishing the videos, sighs, smiles at her parents, thanks them kindly for it before she retreats to her room, and starts to play classical music again, very, very loudly.

Meanwhile, it would take months before Suzie would find her father, but finally she would get a name and an address. The name was Mark Norton. The address was in the Jersey area. For better or for worse, Suzie was going to find out who her father was.

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_**A/N: That's it for this chapter. Many thanks for your patience and for reading and reviewing. Kind reviews are welcome and much appreciated.**_

_**Many thanks as always to the readers who stuck with me and left reviews for chapter 11 - pictureofsuccess, kutee and ichigo111981. Much appreciate it and really glad you guys liked the format, the callbacks and everything else. Yes, MILF is a fun acronym for an organization, no?**_

_**Anyway, sorry for taking so long for this update. I'd already intended the story to go here, I just hadn't known how to write it, but then an opportunity presented itself and here we are. Hope you like. I thought there might be only a chapter more, but judging from this, I think a couple of chapters more should do it.**_

_**For those waiting on the other stories, apologies. The chapters for the story updates are being worked on, but I'm not feeling the flow yet and I seem still to be at a brickwall. Rest assured I will update as soon as inspiration hits. Many thanks as always for your patience.**_

_**Many thanks to DragonsWillFly for the beta.**_


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